


Dark Horse Running

by prototyping



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: A STORY OF REDEMPTION or smth, Fight Scenes, Gen, General, Rivalry, Violence, genfic, kh3-based, pretty violent ngl, so much sass, this fandom needs more genfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 09:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 114,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5822707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/prototyping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ventus hadn't thought there was anything left to salvage. Vanitas would have agreed. Turns out they were both wrong. Ventus, Vanitas, and an ongoing legacy of second chances. Genfic, post-KH3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Different Shades

**Author's Note:**

> After seeing several fandom takes on the Vanitas-switches-alignments angle and only liking one of them, I've decided to try my hand at it. This first chapter should make it obvious that I'm not going the "sweet and sympathetic" route, but sure enough, Vanitas' repentance is the ultimate goal here. This story was started prior to the release of KH2.8, so there will naturally be a lot of guesswork pertaining to KH3.

Ventus landed hard on his back, his head striking the ground and making lights flicker across his vision. The grass was more forgiving than other alternatives, but the clear sky and its blazing sun only hindered him as he was briefly blinded, providing his opponent with the opening he needed.

In an instant Vanitas was over him, slamming a foot down on Ven's Key hand to trap it there. Ven's left came up and around, the air around his fingers chilling with a Blizzara spell, but Vanitas' Keyblade was faster. Its jagged, V-shaped edge caught Ven's wrist and pinned it beside his head, rendering the spell void.

Vanitas watched him struggle, looking somewhere between amused and annoyed. "You've gotten predictable." He leaned down until he was nearly sitting astride Ven's chest, free arm perched casually on his knee. "Or did these thirteen years take all the fight out of you?"

Ven said nothing as he held that hostile stare. His mind was in overdrive, running through every spell and attack he knew and trying to come up with something--

The cold smirk on Vanitas' face managed to chill by a few more degrees. "Out of ideas? Think as hard as you want." He put more weight on his Keyblade and it dug deeper, making Ven wince. "The old man didn't teach you enough, huh? Maybe if he'd coddled you less, you'd live a little longer." He made a dismissive noise. "Like master, like pupil."

"Shut up!" Ven jerked, his anger straining in vain against Vanitas' weight. "You don't get to talk about him!"

"Tch." Vanitas' smile faded. "Getting worked up over the stupidest things... I don't know if it makes this easy or annoying."

Ven wavered, caution momentarily trumping emotion. " 'This?' This what?"

Ignoring him, Vanitas reached down and a moment later something clicked and released. Ven felt the strap around his chest loosen slightly and Vanitas held up his Master Symbol, glancing idly over it. "As long as it fits with what you've learned inside your little bubble of reality, you believe everything others spoon-feed you, don't you?"

He flipped the metal brooch over the backs of his fingers, otherwise unmoving as Ven continued to twist and fight against the weight holding him down. "You think you know what's right and best because that's what you're _told._ Even your heroic little suicide to stop the X-blade -- it wasn't your idea, was it? You kept on clinging to your master's ideals even after he tried to kill you. That's how pathetically dependent you are."

"I told you to _shut--_ "

In a heartbeat, Vanitas clenched his fist and struck hard at Ven's right cheek. Worse, he'd angled the brooch so that its sharp edge protruded between his knuckles, and Ven heard his own skin rip as the punch landed. It missed his eye, fortunately, but he cried out all the same as pain erupted over his cheekbone. He choked it back just as quickly, rage fueling his stubbornness.

"Am I _wrong?"_ Vanitas pressed.

"And what about you?" Ven hissed. His teeth were clenched tight, but that gash burned terribly all the same, bleeding and throbbing in time with his pulse. "You've followed Xehanort all this time -- when have you ever thought for yourself?"

Vanitas made a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff, his shoulders twitching. "I guess our connection still only goes one way," he mused. "Lucky me." Bored with the brooch, he tossed it aside. "I'm not here on orders, idiot."

"What?"

"Xehanort's got his Thirteen lined up already. Everything's in motion. It's just a waiting game now."

Ven stared, completely at a loss as warm blood trickled down towards his ear. Vanitas wasn't here for Xehanort? But if he wasn't, then... wouldn't that mean--

"Don't get your hopes up," Vanitas interrupted, as if reading those thoughts. Then again, he might have been. "Like I'd really go backstabbing him this far in."

"Then what?" For the time being, Ven had ceased his efforts at trying to squirm free. He could tell -- he knew, somehow, that Vanitas was being honest, and that caught his attention.

That honesty was in Vanitas' face now. Gone was the mockery and cruelty, but what remained wasn't reassuring by any stretch of the imagination. He was watching Ven the same way a cat watches a mouse, intent and unblinking.

"Join with me." It was calm and firm, the exact tone of voice he'd used when insisting the same thing years ago. Just like then, it wasn't a threat as much as it was an appeal -- an offer, a gesture of cooperation and promise of power. It was the seductive sound of an easy and selfish way out. "We can be much more than the X-blade now. Your master only taught you as much as your light could handle -- Terra learned that the hard way."

"What do you know about--!" Ven's outburst was smothered as Vanitas clamped a hand over his mouth -- and his nose.

Vanitas watched with icy detachment as Ven tossed his head and struggled to inhale. "I could kill you right now and be done with it. As far as this war's concerned, you're replaceable -- and you have no idea how much I'd love to _choke_ \--" His grip tightened enough to hurt. "--the life out of you, bit by bit."

Only when Ven's head began to grow fuzzy and his sight dimmed did that hold finally relent, just enough to grant him some shallow breaths. Those rough fingers kept a firm grip on his jaw, however, making certain he couldn't look away.

"Your bonds make you strong, I'll give you that," Vanitas went on, "but you keep mouthing off like a little kid and it'll get you killed. That's where you're weak."

Ven had to calm his panting before he could shoot back, "What's it to you? You just said--"

"--that I _could_ kill you," Vanitas interrupted. "Meaning I don't plan to, genius -- but the more you talk, the more I'm tempted. So shut up, calm down, and listen to me."

The sarcasm and threats notwithstanding, it was a surprisingly civil request -- if only because Ven would never have expected Vanitas to opt for a talk over a fight. As little interest as he had in hearing what Vanitas had to say, he couldn't deny that it would be wiser to listen. Even if he wasn't stuck in place, something about all of this was odd. It didn't fit with what they knew of Xehanort's intentions.

Taking the silence as a sign of compliance, Vanitas continued. "What do you think is really in your best interest? Say you win this fight, you and the rest of your Lights. You think that's the end of it? There will always be another Xehanort to come along. This cycle will start over, just with new pieces on the board.

"But say you lose," he proposed, "or join us. The war ends. Xehanort wins. Some die, but less than it would be in the long run. Isn't that what you're all about? Being a protector?" The snide remark was no compliment. Vanitas leaned forward, putting more of his weight on Ven's wrists until it felt like they might break. Ven cringed, but made no sound.

"Accept me -- accept Xehanort," that smooth voice insisted. "You and I both died that day, and yet here we are. You're meant for something greater than being a pawn of the light, Ventus. Accept that, and I can guarantee you and I will survive." Vanitas tilted his head in mock consideration. "Play your cards right, and maybe Terra and Aqua will, too."

It wasn't just the danger level that was setting Ven's nerves ablaze. Vanitas was gloved, but something about the touch of his hand was fiercely unpleasant. It gave Ven the uneasy sense of drawing too close to a steep ledge, staring too intently into the dark abyss below it. Undeniably, the sensation was familiar -- underneath the sharp stab of Vanitas' fingertips digging deep enough to bruise, there was an intangible tie, almost a pull, that Ven felt to the life behind them. It was as though something inside himself -- his heart, his soul, something -- recognized that a kindred spirit was near.

Near and willing to join again.

"We're all pawns here," said Vanitas quietly, although his voice was still hard, "but only one side's going to come out on top. Most of us don't have a choice anymore. But you do."

Slowly, Ven's shoulders relaxed -- slumped, rather. His Keyblade vanished in a dull flash. "Maybe... I am just a pawn," he murmured. "A piece in a game that I don't have any control over." Looking at the events of his life in hindsight, that was certainly how it seemed. That wasn't to say any of it had been unavoidable; he'd made a number of contributing mistakes. These days, he was going along with the same degree of determined fervor, and only time would tell if it worked out. Regardless of how much confidence he had, nothing was guaranteed. He knew that now.

Maybe...

"Maybe that's all I've ever been," he said quietly, frowning. "And... maybe that's why I'm here now. If so..." Both hands fisted loosely, and then relaxed again. He looked up at Vanitas, who was watching him closely. His face was neutral, but Ven could sense his expectation.

Holding that hard stare, Ven raised his voice. "If I am, it doesn't change a thing!"

The hand that had previously held his Keyblade struck the ground palm-first. Bright light burst forth underneath him, forming a wide circle of intricate sigils that flared with force. Vanitas leapt to his feet, but too late: Salvation erupted upward and outward, catching him point-blank at full power. He was hurled backwards with a cry, and Ven wasted no time in flipping onto his knees and standing, summoning his weapon once more with a snap of his sore wrist. The same light that had slammed into Vanitas with such brutality now concentrated on Ven, but gently in contrast, redirecting into the warm touch of healing magic. He felt the cuts on his arm and face shrink, the bruises on his wrists and jaw disappear.

The spell faded and even he had to blink a couple times for his eyes to adjust, glaring hard at Vanitas when he saw that he'd already recovered.

"I always figured you were a waste of time, but man." Vanitas absently craned his neck until it popped, stopping a short distance away with his weapon hanging at his side. "You couldn't get any more hopeless if you tried."

"And _you're_ just a broken record!" Ven retorted. He shifted to hold his Keyblade behind him, tensed and battle-ready. "You know the darkness doesn't interest me, so stop wasting my time! Let's finish this!"

Vanitas didn't budge, his piercing stare locked on his other half. He appeared serious, calm, and collected, his own feelings of annoyance mostly restrained to that light frown. Everything Ven wasn't, presently. "You really are an idiot. You just don't get it -- or was your brain fried so bad back then that you still don't remember?"

Something told Ven that he was treading on thin ice, but he took the bait, anyway. "Remember what?"

"Out of everybody in all the worlds, why do you think Xehanort chose _you_ , a scrawny little brat?" Vanitas approached once more, his steps steady and patient. "If you took most of our heart when we separated, why was I so much stronger than you when we met? How did I survive after my body and heart were destroyed? And why do you think I'd bother with you now?"

Ven hesitated. He hadn't considered any of those questions before, let alone the answers. Strange though it was for Vanitas to talk this much, it seemed unlikely that it was a trick; at least, Ven doubted it was meant to stall or anything like that. Vanitas' behavior seemed earnest, as though he wanted Ven to figure it out.

" 'Why?' " Ven pondered that, even though his poise didn't let up in the slightest. Xehanort, Vanitas... himself... There was only one common tie. "It... The X-blade, right?" he hazarded guessing. "That's what it's always been about, hasn't it?"

"Wrong." Vanitas finally stopped, no more than a few yards away now -- and just out of range for any of Ven's spells, which may or may not have been a coincidence. Despite their proximity, he remained at ease. "Xehanort took you in because you had what he needed. I was better than you because I came from the strongest part of our heart. I'm alive because that same part is still feeding me, even if you've turned your back on it."

Ven stiffened. Vanitas' apathy cracked as he smirked slightly. "Catching on? The darkness might not interest you, Ventus, but you interest the darkness. And why wouldn't you? You had a lot to offer it -- still do, if you'd ju--"

"No!" The outburst was heated, but Ven's expression and grip on his Keyblade were wavering. "That's... that's not...!"

"Hmph. Now who's the broken record?" Vanitas cocked an eyebrow -- casual skepticism, the opposite of Ven's boiling, trembling emotion. Like always, Vanitas was the one with self-control. He was the one speaking from a level head, not a storming heart. "You still think yelling at me will make it any less true? Last I checked, that didn't help you save Terra, did it?"

Predictably, Ven's head snapped up with a murderous glare. Vanitas only shifted his weight slightly, turning over and analyzing that blind rage as though it were second nature -- which it pretty much was by now. He kept on pushing. "You know, I'm a little surprised you're not glad about this. You've always wanted to be _just_ like him." His disdain was obvious, his tone ringing of disgust. "I bet he tries to keep up that stupid teacher's pet facade, so he probably tones down the truth around you. Ask him. Ask him how much stronger he is since he chose to wield darkness. Ask him how good it feels, and what he thinks of Eraqus' black-and-white philosophies now--"

In a blur of black, Vanitas dashed backwards; less than a second later Ven struck the ground where he had been standing, the edge of his Keyblade splitting the earth in a flare of flame. He didn't stop there, but followed Vanitas with impressive speed and a brutal slash. Steel clashed as Vanitas parried -- but lazily, one-handed, his crooked smile a parody of pity as he regarded Ven over their locked blades.

"So much hate and rage," he mused. "Where do you think it came from, originally?"

Ven doubled his efforts, throwing more of his weight into his side of the stalemate. Vanitas fell back, but twisted his Keyblade and swiftly sidestepped to send Ven stumbling past him.

"I don't care what you say," Ven snapped as he recovered, chest heaving, "or what I was like back then. All I care about -- is making sure you and Xehanort don't hurt anybody else. Even if I did need you... it wouldn't matter. I can't trust you."

"Trust." Vanitas echoed the word almost curiously, as if testing it out for the first time, but with clear distaste. After a moment he grimaced slightly, sneering. " _Right._ "

Unexpectedly, he dismissed his Keyblade. With it gone, he looked utterly relaxed, as though he already knew there would be no lashing out from Ven. "Hypocrite," he remarked flatly. "You're so quick to judge without even thinking about it, but your precious Terra really is the exception to every rule, isn't he? You never doubted that he'd stay on the path of light -- but even when he proved you wrong and wandered off it, you never lost your blind faith in him." That wasn't analytical guesswork, either; Vanitas knew that for a fact. Ventus had had his moments of weakness and doubt, turning on Aqua and even Eraqus in the heat of the moment, but not Terra. Never Terra. "Who are you to lecture about _trust_?"

Ven all but snarled, but the not-quite-trust ran both ways now. He knew Vanitas wasn't going to fight him, so he stood a little straighter, Keyblade at his side. "You don't have any idea what Terra's been through! I might not know everything, either, but I do know that I trust him a lot more than I trust you. I don't want your power if it means betraying my friends and the cause we fight for -- and I don't need you in order to protect them!"

"Heh." Something strangely close to honest amusement flickered over Vanitas' features as he glanced aside. He passed a hand in front of his face, and shadows trailed behind his fingers to grow, solidify, and cover his whole head, forming his usual mask. "You mean the cause you were given as a wielder, or the cause they _say_ you fight for?"

Ven's frown deepened. "As a wielder? That _is_ why we're fighting -- to protect the worlds from people like you!"

"So you say." A black portal suddenly opened behind Vanitas. He turned his back on Ven without another glance. "As much as I'd like to shove your self-righteous brainwashing down your throat, I can't force you to choose the better path. But it's high time you start thinking about what happens if you win this war. Ask yourself what it is that weapon of yours was meant for -- ask _it_ if you have to."

"Ask... my Keyblade?"

"Why not? Can't be any less productive than talking to you," Vanitas muttered. He stepped into the Corridor, which closed behind him before Ven could decide whether or not to object. Just like that, he was gone, and the unsettling weight on the edge of Ven's senses suddenly lifted. He was alone again in the empty field, the cheerful sunlight and lively greenery unaffected by the violent exchange.

With a growl he wiped at the blood along his cheekbone, wincing when he found the area still tender.

It was all a ruse, obviously. Vanitas had failed to eradicate him the last time they joined, so now he was trying a different approach. A poor one, Ven thought.

He dismissed his Keyblade in a flash, and then frowned down at his empty hand.

Power, darkness... He had no use or desire for either one. He was strong already, even if he had a ways to go, and his friends made up the difference where necessary. They would find a way to make everything right, he was positive -- the so-called cycle would end here. Vanitas was wrong about that. They didn't need to compromise; Ven didn't need to resort to _him_.

_And so what if I've always trusted Terra? That's what friends do -- and I wasn't wrong._

Ven turned his frown towards where Vanitas had disappeared. He had the uneasy sense of having missed something, the ominous feeling that this confrontation wasn't over yet.

Not that it mattered. Ven's answer would be the same every time.

He turned to go on his way, moving in the opposite direction.

_Forget it, Vanitas. You of all people should know me better than that._


	2. Deep Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of the foretold battle, the fates of those remaining are called into question while the limits of Ventus' devotion are put to the test.

"Ven."

The boy blinked at the sound of his name, breaking free of some deep thought or another. He looked quickly up at Aqua, who stood beside him with a slightly uncertain smile.

"You okay?" she asked.

"...Yeah." That didn't come out as confident as it was probably meant to sound. "Just thinking."

He didn't look at her when he said it. Aqua resisted a frown, although her smile dimmed a bit. They were all pretty on edge; the eerie, haunting atmosphere of the Keyblade Graveyard would do that to anybody, the stakes notwithstanding.

She put a hand on his shoulder, finding some space between his plates of armor, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You want to talk about it?"

Ven didn't answer right away. He was quieter lately, she had noticed. He'd seemed to bounce back just fine after waking in the castle, bearing no changes that she or Terra could discern, but for about two weeks now she had caught Ven lost in thought more often than usual. It wasn't terribly strange -- he was the type to lose his head in the clouds, always had been -- but her gut told her something was up.

She tried to take some of the pressure off by looking away, turning her gaze to their dead surroundings. The landscape was just as she remembered: barren, dry, and wounded with ancient scars in the earth. They still had a ways to go before they encountered the sea of dead Keyblades, but their impending presence already hung heavy in the air regardless.

"Aqua," he said finally, slowly, "do you..." She waited, watching him expectantly. "Do you really think this will be the end of it?"

When he didn't add on to the question, Aqua mulled it over for a moment. "The end of Xehanort? I like to hope so." Her left hand fisted slightly at her side, as though her fingers were closing around the hilt of her Keyblade. "But I think there will always be something to stand guard against," she went on. "Master Eraqus always said that peace is bought at a price. I don't know if that will change anytime soon."

"I remember." Finally, Ven turned to her again, his face serious and set and appearing too old for his age, somehow. The horizontal scar under his right eye, the leftover of a battle he'd been vague about when questioned, only added to that impression. "But even after Xehanort's gone... what if somebody else tries to do what he's done? What if it all starts over again?"

Aqua's eyebrows knitted together in concern. This kind of long-term foresight really wasn't like him, with or without the pessimism. "Why would you say that?"

"Mm..." It was a reluctant sound, as if he didn't want to say. "I guess... now that we're all together again, I'm worried. I know I should be happy -- and I am -- but... There've always been Keyblade wielders, and there always will be -- and look how many have gone astray. If it happened before... it could happen again. And I'm not--"

"Hey." Aqua's interjection was a quiet, gentle one. She could tell Ven was getting worked up as he went on. "It's okay, Ven. There's no right or wrong way to feel about it." She brushed his hair back fondly. "But you're right," she said. "There's always the chance that power will be abused, even by those who are meant to prevent that sort of thing. It's possible that Keyblade wielders will oppose each other again in the future."

Stepping around in front of him, she leaned over until she was at eye level with him, her hand resting lightly on his head. She offered him a confident smile. "But if it does, we'll be there to handle it. And if it's after our time..." She glanced over at the others -- at Sora, who was laughing along with Kairi and leaning against an annoyed-looking Riku; at Terra, who stood near them with arms crossed and an amused smile; and at Mickey, who didn't seem to have stopped smiling since the Seven were gathered. There were more allies beyond these, of course, but everybody had their roles to play in this intertwined destiny. Whether or not those paths crossed had yet to be seen.

"...I think we'll have left it in good hands," Aqua concluded. Ven had followed her stare, and now looked back to her as she added, "Whatever happens, we'll face it together, Ven. Let's just focus on one fight at a time, okay? All of us."

Ven didn't shy away from her level gaze. It took a few heartbeats, but he cracked a serene smile. "Yeah. You're right."

With a satisfied hum, Aqua leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "All right. Then let's give this everything we've got."

"You got it."

* * *

_Get up._

The words brushed against the edge of his mind, a passing touch like waves retreating from the shore. Sunlight creeping on the frame of a dark doorway.

_I said, get up._

Louder now. Was it an actual sound? He didn't think so. It felt too close for that. Almost as though--

_GET UP._

Ven jerked awake to darkness. Deep, surrounding, endless darkness, empty and silent on all sides. He tried to move, but he couldn't immediately tell if he was successful. Was he lying down? Standing? He tried to bring his arms inward and touch his chest, but he couldn't tell if that was possible, either.

Was he even breathing?

He tried to think. Where was he? What did he remember? There was the battle... Sora and the others... Terra, Aqua, and Xehanort--

Ven tensed, at least mentally. The battle -- Xehanort had done it, he had forged the X-blade and seized it -- they all fought him, all seven of them, and in the end...

In the end it had shattered, there was a blinding light, and then... this.

Was this it, then? Had Ven been killed? He didn't think so. He knew what death felt like. This wasn't it.

Without warning a voice spoke out of the darkness and into his ear, low and collected and cold. "I warned you, didn't I? What would happen if you won."

Startled, Ven tried to turn around, but that disembodied sensation made it difficult, like trying to move without feeling in any of his limbs. He thought he might have managed it, but the voice stayed beside him, close enough that he half-expected to feel breath on his neck.

"It's the same as when you and I forged the X-blade years ago. Once it's totally destroyed, all those connected to it will die."

_No._ Ven couldn't speak the objection -- he couldn't figure out if he even had a mouth to speak with at present -- but hot denial echoed in his thoughts, a mockery of a heartbeat. _No, no, no -- they're okay, they have to be -- somebody would have figured that out--_

"Would they? You're way too trusting, as usual." The voice -- Vanitas' voice -- backed off slightly, although it was still too close for comfort. "But they're all fine. Calm down."

_How do you--?_

"Because I can feel them, same as you," was the impatient reply. "I am you, remember?"

_That's not--!_

"And," Vanitas went on, "it sounds like they figured it out already. But you don't have any idea where you are or what's going on, do you." It wasn't a question.

Out of spite, Ven didn't answer. He felt rather than heard a snide _hmph_ \-- and then everything changed. The nothingness suddenly burst with light, and as bright as it was he oddly didn't have to shield his eyes. All was black one second, and in the next white: white in every direction, as empty as the darkness had been.

Except, Ven realized, he could see his nose in front of his face again. He looked down and found his body intact -- and in much better condition than he'd last seen it. He was in his usual clothes, uninjured.

"Yes, you're alive. For now."

He whirled around. Vanitas stood only a couple yards away, as calm and composed as ever. Gone was the black coat of the Thirteen, replaced with his old attire. He wore his mask.

"Where are we?" Ven asked warily.

"In-between. Your life is slipping away, same as mine. It won't be long until both our hearts are eradicated. Again," Vanitas added indifferently. "But I wouldn't bet on Sora saving you this time."

Ven's fists clenched. He didn't want to believe it, but he didn't exactly have proof to the contrary. The fact that they were seeing each other like this suggested something was definitely wrong.

Only minutes ago, the two of them had been fighting brutally to the death -- and yet, as alone as they now were, disconnected from the outside, Ven had no choice but to trust Vanitas, at least to a degree. "Then..." he said quietly, "why aren't the others here, too?"

"I told you, they've figured this out already. They know what they have to do to survive."

"You said--"

"--that we're dying. We are. But there's a little time left."

Ven stared, eyes narrowed, but Vanitas' mask and calm tone gave nothing away. If he had approached like this, Ven reasoned, claiming to know what needed to be done, then that could only mean... "To do what?"

Vanitas turned his head to the side slightly as if listening for something. "Terra and Aqua," he said thoughtfully. "And... your king and Riku. Guess that would leave Sora and his little princess."

"What?"

Vanitas faced him head-on once more. "Which leaves you and me. Funny how destiny works, innit?"

Scowling, Ven snapped, "Look, if you have something to say, say it! Otherwise I'll just figure something out on my own--"

A low chuckle escaped Vanitas, although it was a dry and humorless sound. His shoulders didn't so much as twitch. "Go ahead, Ventus. Run as fast and as far as you want, but you can't separate yourself from the one thing that will kill you in the end." Raising a hand to chest-level, he pointed straight at Ven. "You can feel it, can't you? You've been there before. Your heart is fractured."

Slowly, Ven reached up and put a hand over his heart. "Fractured..." But why? The X-blade hadn't been forged the same way as before -- it shouldn't have been tied to anybody's heart. He tensed. "So then--! The others--!"

"Terra and Aqua," Vanitas repeated. "The king and Riku. Sora and Kairi. What do they all have in common?" When Ven wavered, Vanitas answered, "They're close. Close enough that they can connect their hearts."

Ven considered that. Close enough to connect...? So what? Vanitas went on watching him, still and silent and apparently offering no more hints. Despite the impatient flash of anger that flooded through Ven, he forced himself to focus. They could connect their hearts -- and Vanitas said that they were going to survive -- so--

"...That's it," he said slowly. "Their hearts were fractured, too -- but if they connect them... that would sort of be like being whole again."

"Took you long enough," Vanitas remarked, annoyed.

"Then why didn't you just _tell_ me, you--"

"I couldn't." Vanitas' tone was sharp, but distracted, as if this particular bout of irritation wasn't directed at Ven. "...You had to figure it out yourself," he added after a terse pause. "I could only hand-feed you so many hints."

Ven frowned, but his voice stayed level. "Why?"

"You always ask the stupidest questions, you know that? Point is, we're dying. Lucky for me, all your other chances at getting out alive are booked solid. Which just leaves me."

The agitation washed from Ven's face in a heartbeat, replaced with stunned realization.

Again, Vanitas raised an arm -- but this time he did so with hand open and palm up. A beseeching gesture.

Ven instantly took a step back. "Forget it!"

"It's the only way," said Vanitas coolly.

"You're lying!"

"Am I?" Vanitas' mask seemed to blur; a moment later it melted away, drifting off in a haze of dark smoke to reveal his face. Same piercing eyes, same hard-set and unfeeling expression. "See for yourself. Reach out to me -- read my emotions. Check my thoughts."

"I can't--"

"You can," he said harshly. "You're just too stupid and naïve to know how. Stop shutting me out, Ventus. Open your heart. Reach for mine. You'll see I'm telling the truth."

They held one another's hard gaze, unblinking.

It couldn't be true, Ven was sure. It couldn't -- there was no way he could have been backed into this corner _again_ , surely--

He hesitated. If Vanitas was calling his bluff... well, there was one way to find out.

* * *

"Ven!"

"I've got him! Go!"

Aqua obeyed, snatching up her Keyblade as Terra tended to Ven's unresponsive form. Despite that Ven still wore his armor, Terra moved him onto his shoulder and stood up with little difficulty, quickly breaking into a run to keep up with the others.

Everybody had gotten through all right, Aqua was glad to see, although it had been an uncomfortably close call. The blast of light following the X-blade's shattering had enveloped them in an instant, blinding and deafening and cutting them off from one another. And yet Mickey's voice had reached her through the confusion, urging her to "find her light;" looking back now, she wasn't sure how it made sense at the time, but she had realized what he meant. Terra and Ven were both her lights, so she had reached for them, searching the nothingness for their hearts.

She'd only found Terra.

When the Seven and their companions came to, alive and well, they discovered Ven sprawled on the ground and unresponsive. There had been no trace of Xehanort or his Seekers of Darkness -- none except Isa, who had somehow survived, as well. The time for questions was cut short as an earthquake shook the Graveyard, and they were all forced to flee as the ground crumbled beneath their feet.

As she ran, Aqua shot a quick glance over their group. The Seven plus Lea and Isa, Roxas and Xion, Donald and Goofy. The others had arrived just moments before the battle's end, and now they numbered thirteen total, ironically.

Most were in decent shape -- except Isa, who was wounded and worn and being led along by Lea, and Ven, who remained draped unmoving over Terra's shoulder.

Catching a glimpse of his limp form, Aqua tried not to think about how still he was -- breathing, but uncomfortably reminiscent of when she had left him in the castle thirteen years ago--

_Focus,_ she scolded herself. _Get everybody out alive first and then you can worry._ She glanced back and saw that the group had put some distance between themselves and the crater, which seemed to be slowing in its pursuit. Bringing her Keyblade up and around, Aqua focused and a beam of light shot from its tip to pierce the air a little ways ahead. A glowing portal tore open. They were going to make it.

She was in the lead, so she slowed as she turned to call back to the others -- but even as she did so, her senses suddenly screamed at her that something was wrong, something was close--

Somebody darted past her in a blur. As she spun back around, she caught a glimpse of two, three, four black shapes disappearing in a cloud of dark mist; Riku crouched in front of her, his Keyblade returning from the end of a swing that had taken out the Heartless. Before Aqua could wonder where they had come from, more of the yellow-eyed creatures shambled in through the portal she had just made.

Riku leapt back to draw even beside her, brandishing his weapon overhand. "Parting gift from Maleficent?" he guessed. Aqua scowled.

"Everybody, get ready! We'll have to fight our way through!" As the others obeyed in a flurry of movement, she looked across the chaos and caught Terra's eye. They nodded in unison, no words needed. Protecting Ven would be his priority; backing Terra up would be hers.

* * *

Forcing himself to relax -- slightly -- Ven did as told. He imagined his heart, fractured and fading but guarded -- against Vanitas' presence, against his words. He imagined those walls lowering, the distance between his light and Vanitas' darkness closing ever so slightly--

\--and a tangle of emotions hit him like a physical blow. They were mild feelings, curbed and contained through an almost iron willpower, but they rolled over each other like waves in a storm to give him narrow glimpses of the thoughts behind them.

Anger-- _(Ventus was taking too long)_

Impatience-- _(Their time was almost up)_

Hatred-- _(Why did he have to rely on this pathetic little--)_

Those were at the forefront, but behind them Ven could pick up on a few others. Barely, like trying to hear a low sound through the rain or make out a faded color at a distance.

Disdain. Frustration. Envy. Lust for power, for strength. A thirst for destruction. And under all of it, a... fear? Yes, fear for his life -- fear that conflicted with a bitter sense of almost violent self-loathing.

Ven had seen enough. He pulled -- _reeled_ backwards, away from the emotions and cold hint of Vanitas' heart, back into the semi-warmth of the in-between. He had to blink a few times, but he found Vanitas watching him at the same distance as before, giving zero indication of those emotions toiling beneath the surface.

"You've seen it," said Vanitas matter-of-factly.

"You planned this--" Ven stared at him in a blend of shock and disbelief. "You knew this would happen!" The X-blade shattering, Xehanort's defeat, the demise of all those connected to it--

"I guessed," Vanitas corrected. "I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this, but I made sure to be prepared, just in case."

Prepared... "Then," said Ven, "when we met before--"

"My way of setting up a backup plan," Vanitas replied confidently, smugly. "You were so neck-deep in your righteous cause that it would have been impossible for me to connect with you like this, even if we are the same person. All I had to do was put a little bit of doubt into your thick head. That was enough to open you up to me."

The anger from before returned and Ven took another step back, shaking his head. "I told you -- forget it. I'm not joining you."

"Heh. Not even to save your friends?" Ven quickly looked up and found Vanitas smirking coldly. "Don't act like you missed that detail."

He hadn't. In that emotional mess, Ven had detected a jarring possibility. "I..."

"Weren't you mouthing off about doing anything to protect them?" Vanitas pressed. "And now you'll leave them all to die, just because you're afr--"

"No!" Ven didn't try to hide how torn he was. He now knew that Vanitas would sense it either way. "I won't...!"

"Then you know what you have to do." For the second time, Vanitas reached out and offered his hand. Ven stared at it, more divided than he could ever remember feeling before.

The decision had been simpler thirteen years ago. Protect his friends by giving his life. This time, it was the opposite -- and the risk was much higher.

And yet, he knew, there was some small reassurance, or at least a vague hope. For those moments that he had been inside his mind, he had seen the limits of Vanitas' foresight. He had been clever, predicting this far, but that was where his chess game ended. If they joined, even he had no idea what all could or would happen; and under that ignorance had been a hint of uncertainty.

Time was ticking.

Himself or his friends. Ven wished it was that easy.

Vanitas didn't say a word -- not when Ven continued to burn precious moments with hesitation, nor when Ven fixed him with a cold and challenging glare. He only waited.

* * *

Their numbers were endless. Just when Aqua thought they might have reached the end in the Heartless onslaught, another wave would burst through the portal and break on the group of Keyblade wielders. Individually, the Purebloods wouldn't have been a challenge, but attacking en masse was where the danger lied.

The wielders were already strained and exhausted from their previous battles, as well, and the number of injuries on their side was growing as a testament to that.

Even for Aqua, each spell she threw out was becoming more difficult than the last. Regardless, she rapidly threw up a wall of barrier magic around Kairi as a troupe of Shadows descended on her from above. They struck it hard and bounced off, giving Kairi enough time to shoot her a grateful look before leaping after them.

Once again shoving her pain and exhaustion to the background, Aqua slashed and forced her way back over to Terra, who was looking worse than the rest. Still holding Ven with one arm, he hadn't been sparing the time to use healing spells; his arms were covered in bloody scratches, although that seemed to be the worst of it that she could see.

"Terra!" Arriving beside him, she quickly held her hands out towards Ven's form. "I'll take him."

"But--"

"I'll see if I can wake him up," she interrupted, overruling his objection. "I need you to cover us!" That, she knew, would appeal more to Terra than suggesting he just burden her with the extra weight. Without another word he slipped Ven off his shoulder and into her arms, and she swiftly lowered him to the ground to lay him out. Now free to fight two-handed, Terra instantly and brutally tore into the enclosing Heartless; Aqua, trusting him completely, shut out the distraction and focused on Ven.

His breastplate was still rising and falling with steady breaths. She pressed her hand to his neck and found his pulse beating in an easy, relaxed rhythm. Despite the danger around them, she felt a sad smile pull at her lips. "You can still sleep through anything," she murmured. "You haven't changed at all, Ven." Unsurprisingly, he didn't answer.

Setting her Keyblade down, Aqua gently grasped his helm in both hands and began to slide it off. If she could channel Cure into him, focusing on his head and heart, she might be able to detect any irregularities and work from there. A long shot, maybe, but the fact that he was even alive after the X-blade's destruction gave her plenty of hope to run on.

The glass over his eyes was scratched and cracked, and chips broke off as she continued to ease the helm up. His bottom lip was bloodied, his skin seemed paler than usual -- and right as she would have pulled it above his eyes, Ven's hand suddenly sprang up and caught her wrist. Aqua gave a short cry of surprise.

"Ven!" Before she could say another word, he summoned his Keyblade in a flash and swung -- _at her._

\--Or so she thought before it skimmed narrowly past her head, and she jerked aside to see his blade cleave a NeoShadow's skull in two. It disappeared in a dark haze and a second later Terra landed beside them, panting.

"Aqua! Are you -- Ven?" He looked stunned for a moment, but then broke into a relieved smile. "You're awake!"

Rolling onto his knees, Ven used his Keyblade to climb to his feet. He adjusted his helm, pulling it back down over his face, and swiftly skimmed the scene. "What's going on?"

"Heartless in the Lanes," Aqua told him as she also stood. "Too many. Part of the Graveyard fell, but it looks like it's stopped."

"It's only temporary," Ven replied quickly, almost before she had finished speaking. He sounded uncharacteristically serious. "The X-blade was tied to this world. If it was destroyed completely, the land will follow. Just like before."

Terra and Aqua both frowned, puzzled by his insight. "How do you know that?" she asked.

Ven glanced at her. His concealed face made it difficult to read him, but she had the sense that he was struggling with his answer. "...You wouldn't like it if I told you," he said vaguely.

"Ven? What are you--"

He shifted into his battle stance as more Heartless headed their way. "Later!" he assured her over his shoulder. Concerned though Aqua was about his behavior, she had to agree. He was awake and all right, so the details could wait.

They jumped back into the fray with the others, Ven leading the charge with more energy than the rest probably now had combined. His presence made an obvious impact as he slammed into the horde with Keyblade slashing and magic flying: in seconds he had cleared enough space to give the fighters some much needed breathing room. At that point Aqua felt secure in taking her eye off of him, so they split up and continued to work at their enemies' numbers.

The reassurance of Ven's presence was short-lived, however -- once again the ground rumbled and shook, and a sound like the cracking of a whip cut through the dusty air. Even without looking, Aqua knew that the Graveyard was resuming its fall. Just as Ven had said.

That thought prompted her to steal a glimpse at him. He was still flitting from one enemy to the next, and for a moment his movements seemed... off to her, somehow. His battle style had always been efficient, but the way he now cut through the Heartless in droves, not hesitating between kills and hardly sparing a glance at his allies, his posture unusually straight at the end of his strikes -- it was almost _too_ efficient.

_What happened while he was unconscious? How did he recover by himself like that?_

Try as Aqua might to ignore her curiosity, those questions kept bouncing back. Something was off. Something she wasn't seeing--

"Aqua!"

Terra's call jerked her from her thoughts. Nodding sharply, she blasted a group of Heartless back with a hasty Firaga and hurried after him, the two of them forming the tail end of the group as they strove to outrun the approaching crater once again.

_We might not have a choice,_ she realized. _The Lanes are dangerous right now, but if we stay here--_ A daunting thought, but they were short on options.

She drew a ragged breath and opened her mouth, about to give the order to take their chances with the portal -- but Ven's voice rose above the noise first.

"Open a Corridor!"

His shout had been made in Lea's direction, who cocked an eyebrow at him the second he had the chance. "What, kid," he yelled back, "not enough Heartless for you already?"

Striking down another NeoShadow in his path, Ven barked over his shoulder, "That witch didn't bother with watching the Corridors, just the Lanes! Now do it!"

Aqua instantly felt her blood run cold. She exchanged startled looks with Terra, who had also heard it. It was definitely Ven's voice, but the words weren't him, the tone was all wrong--

"Don't worry." Aqua jumped slightly at the low remark, looking down at where Mickey stood beside her. He, too, was watching Ven with a grim expression. "There's somethin' funny goin' on, but Ven's still there. I can feel his light." Glancing up at Aqua, his round face bearing its own scrapes and bruises, he offered her a reassuring smile. "I'm sure you can, too. Believe in him."

Aqua's frown deepened. She hadn't sensed any hostility or darkness about Ven when he awoke, it was true, but now her other suspicions were being cast in a much sharper light. She still couldn't say for sure what had happened, but she had an educated guess.

Regardless, trusting in him was all she could do, it seemed. The Heartless weren't waiting, "Ven's" suggestion was the best they had to go on, and somebody had to make the choice. Biting back her uncertainty, bias, and -- most of all -- her fear for her friend, Aqua called out firmly, "Lea! Do like he says!"

Lea's exasperated sigh could be heard even at a distance. "All right, but don't blame me if this blows up." He batted another Shadow aside before throwing out his hand, and a second, darker portal sprang up from the desert floor. Surprisingly, no rush of Heartless poured forth.

That was all the assurance Aqua needed. She dashed for it, intent on being the first one through just in case it was a trap, after all. She reached it at the same time Ven did, who seemed to have the same idea. Shifting her Keyblade to her left side, she caught his hand in her own and stopped him short; his head snapped in her direction as if startled, and she held his hidden gaze with a resolute look.

"Together," she told him. He didn't answer. She didn't wait. Without taking her eyes off him, she called behind her, "Let's go!" The two of them led the way and jumped in. Ven didn't pull away, but Aqua noticed that he didn't return her grip, either.

As indicated, the group made it through without incident. The shortcut was barren of any life, and after a short trek through the darkness they passed through a second portal, stepping out into the bright light of day--

\--and straight into a drop. Aqua yelped in surprise as she pitched forward, but the fall was mercifully short and ended with a plunge into warm water. She heard Ven land beside her, their handhold breaking, but she only dismissed her Keyblade and quickly swam in a random direction -- because a moment later somebody else also hit the water, and then another, and drowning was _not_ the way she wanted to go, least of all after surviving a war.

It took nearly a minute for everybody to surface and get a headcount, but all thirteen fighters were present. Only then did Aqua turn her attention to their surroundings and recognize Radiant Garden. They had landed in the fountain plaza, it turned out, with Lea's Corridor having been precariously placed on the edge of one of the upper levels.

"So my powers of estimation aren't what they used to be," Lea was saying dismissively, noting the several flat looks cast in his direction. "I still got us out, didn't I?"

"Yeah, and if it was any shallower, we could've all broken our necks," Roxas retorted, though halfheartedly. Sopping wet, his black coat seemed to make standing difficult, but he managed after some struggling -- only for Lea to plant a hand on his face and shove him backwards with a splash. "Augh!"

"Let's see you do better, wise guy."

Aqua's limbs seemed heavier than ever, but she waded through the waist-high water and climbed the narrow steps up to the pavement. The sun was warm on her back and she wanted nothing more than to collapse on the spot, to let her breathing even out and her aching muscles relax while she said a thankful prayer or two for the group's safe victory, but she remained standing -- and watching Ven, who stood in the fountain a little further off from the group. He was still in his armor despite how heavy it must have been, staring off as if in thought.

Before Aqua could decide just what needed to be said, she caught a glimpse of movement. "Terra--!" she tried, but he ignored her, sloshing through the water in a beeline for Ven.

Ven turned at the call, but Terra was already over him and seizing him by the shoulder -- roughly, much more than he'd ever been with Ven before -- and with a hard look on his face he reached around, caught the bottom of Ven's helm, and tore it off his head.

A stunned silence fell. Mickey, having also made it ashore, summoned his Keyblade again. Nobody else moved, probably unsure just what -- or whom -- they were looking at.

Because while it was still Ven's face, still Ven's mess of spiky blond hair, that was where the similarities ended. The cutting smile he gave Terra was cold, sharp, and arrogant -- and his eyes, now a shade of piercing yellow, were an even match.

"Surprise," he greeted snidely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Note 1:** I'm sure there's at least one reader out there who's itching to tell me I'm wrong for including Terra among the Seven Lights (or, inversely, for not including him among the Darknesses). To that I only say _please do not open that can of worms with me_ , haha. If you honestly want my textwall of canon evidence for that argument, I'll give it -- if not, please don't add yourself to the long list of people who have beaten me over the head with the insistence that Lea is the seventh Light (and who also lack any evidence for their argument), because I am utterly steadfast in my belief that it isn't the case.
> 
> **Note 2:** For the record, canon isn't terribly clear (as far as I know) concerning the differences between the Lanes and the Corridors, so if some facts come out later that prove me wrong here... my bad.
> 
> **Note 3:** I'm also aware that I kind of cheesed out of the Final Battle by skipping over it, but A) I really have no clue how that's going to go down in KH3 and I'm a little afraid of attempting to guess, and B) I'm touching on it enough in several other fics that doing so again could easily get repetitive. So, imagination required! [Insert Spongebob rainbow here]


	3. Awry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as planned. Mostly.

Vanitas was starting to get really tired of these generic, blank expanses.

Up, down, left, right, as far as the eye could see (however far that was -- twenty feet or twenty miles, he couldn’t tell) everything was white and empty. Not terribly surprising, since he recognized the in-between space that the two of them shared, but it was disappointing nonetheless.

It had nothing to do with the light-dark dynamic. He would have disliked the hollow monotony whether it was white, black, or neon green; there was just _nothing_ here, and even his years of training in the barren fields of the Badlands hadn’t prepared his patience for this pointless and uncreative setting.

Regardless, he took his time. There was nothing to see on the outside of their body at present, so he had withdrawn into this empty space to see what he could learn. Time was difficult to track, but he estimated that he waited a couple hours: thinking, reflecting, but mostly trying to reach out with his senses for a sign of… anything. As always, he could sense Ventus -- his life force, the beating of his half-a-heart that resonated with his own. Vanitas had been able to sense his other half’s emotions for as long as he could remember, but that was always limited. Ever since their reunion over a decade ago, much of the invisible barrier between them had been torn down; now, he could pick up on more of Ventus’ thoughts and feelings than he ever cared to.

At the moment he wasn’t getting much of a reading, but in some ways that was a relief. Good to know he didn’t have to be synchronized with the idiot _constantly_.

Turning around, Vanitas eyed the only other thing in here besides himself: lying stretched out and still on his side -- but breathing -- Ventus was out cold. _And totally vulnerable_ , Vanitas had reminded himself more than once. Part of him, the most bitter and hateful part, wanted to slit Ventus’ throat while he slept; the calmer, crueler part wanted him to be awake and see it coming; in the end, however, the logical part had won out, arguing that it was best not to do anything irreversible until Vanitas knew more about the situation.

And so Vanitas hadn’t touched him. For the sake of his own sanity -- what remained of it -- he’d maintained a wide berth of about ten yards at all times, not wanting to tempt those old, suppressed, but definitely-still-present violent urges. He always felt them around Ventus, but normally he channeled that hatred into their fights. Now, however, in this frustrating, silent stillness, he didn’t entirely trust himself not to lose control -- and at that point haughty disdain outpaced any possible what-ifs, as Vanitas hated the idea of becoming emotionally unstable much more than he feared making a mistake.

But now it seemed he had no choice. While the quiet time was preferable, he’d done as much thinking as he could on his own.

Vanitas approached until he stood over Ventus’ motionless form, staring down at him with unbridled contempt. _So much wasted potential._ It was disgusting, really, but most of all it was disappointing.

He considered summoning his Keyblade first to be prepared, but quickly dismissed the idea. Ventus would be stubborn and jumpy enough already; baring a weapon right off the bat would make cooperation even more difficult. Not to mention Ventus would never strike an unarmed opponent, anyway, so that kind of preparation was unnecessary.

Setting his boot on Ventus’ shoulder, Vanitas gave him a rough shove. “Wake up, loser.”

No response. Biting the inside of his cheek to keep his impatience in check, Vanitas pushed him again. Still nothing.

Sighing melodramatically, he took a step back as if in surrender -- and then stepped forward and slammed a hard, full-strength kick into Ventus’ ribs.

Several things happened then: Ventus woke up, sure enough, with a startled and strangled cry as he rolled onto his back. Vanitas, meanwhile, didn’t really notice -- because at the same time that he struck Ventus, a force like a sledgehammer had collided with his own chest. He stumbled backwards in surprise, but managed to stay upright and stubbornly swallow his voice. For an instant he felt a flicker of fear, wondering if something happened to his heart -- but as the throbbing lingered, he quickly realized that no, it was an outward, physical pain for sure. He knew the difference.

Ventus groaned as he lied on his back, arms hugging his sore torso, but the look of pained confusion quickly subsided as he noticed Vanitas. They each settled into a mutual glare: Ventus’ one of realization, Vanitas’ an irritated uncertainty.

“What was _that_ for?” Ventus rasped. He grimaced as he dropped his head back to the ground.

Vanitas’ chest still hurt, but he’d been through worse. “Where do you want me to start?” he retorted. After a moment he straightened up to his full height, albeit more gingerly than usual. He still wasn’t sure what had happened, but assuming it didn’t repeat itself, it could wait.

With a growl Ventus flipped onto his side, sat up, and then finally climbed to his feet, still nursing what had to be a developing bruise on his chest. He glanced at their surroundings and Vanitas sensed his anger being replaced with light surprise, followed by a hint of recognition. “Here again?” Then he stiffened, fixing his hard gaze on Vanitas again. “What did you do?”

 _”Nothing,”_ Vanitas snapped. “Well, nothing after our little rendezvous in the Graveyard, anyway. But you don’t need me to remind you, do you?”

Ventus glowered. “I remember. I meant _after_ that.” He placed a palm over his heart, pausing -- and Vanitas detected his confusion at the same time that it showed on his face.

“Don’t bother. Spells don’t work here.”

Ventus blinked, momentarily forgetting his utter distrust. “Huh?”

“What’re you, deaf? I said they don’t work here. Don’t know why, so don’t ask.” He didn’t bother mentioning that Keyblades were still accessible.

“Fine. But what happened?”

Vanitas (carefully) crossed his arms. “You were there. After your babysitters saw through my charade, they brought us back to your world. I got tired of playing twenty questions with your Master, so I came back here to see what I could find out.”

“And?”

This time Vanitas let his annoyance show without restraint. “You’re here. It’s just been one disappointment after another.”

“Do you _ever_ turn off that attitude?” Ventus shot back.

“Now it’s your turn,” Vanitas went on, ignoring him. “You really don’t remember anything after that?”

Ventus cocked a challenging eyebrow. “Should I?”

The return attitude was annoying, for sure, but it provoked Vanitas into a small grin all the same. As much as he disliked this kind of bullheaded opposition, it was a little pleasing -- occasionally -- to know that this idiot wasn’t a total pushover.

“You tell me,” he countered casually. “Or do I need to do all the thinking for you, too?”

That earned an disgruntled noise, but Ventus held his tongue and turned thoughtful. “...No,” he said at length. “I remember the Master talking to us. Then waking up here.”

“Figures,” Vanitas muttered.

“So what went wrong? If this was all a plan to take my body, then why--”

“It wasn’t,” Vanitas interrupted. His tone and expression were utterly apathetic and matter-of-fact. “I only needed your heart to support mine while the X-blade was destroyed. We should have split up again once that was over.”

“But we didn’t.”

“Any other obvious observations you’d like to make?”

Ventus glared, but stayed on-topic. “And when we -- when _you_ were fighting, back in the Graveyard... something was wrong with your magic, wasn’t it?”

Remaining still, Vanitas didn’t answer right away. He’d wondered if Ventus noticed, but considering how well they knew each other in battle at this point, it made sense that he would have.

Prior to approaching -- all right, _blackmailing_ him before, Vanitas hadn’t ruled out the possibility of a hiccup; this union had been a willing act between both of them, yes, but triggered by their separate hearts, not by the thin strings that had once held them together nor by the X-blade’s dominating power. That meant the result was unpredictable, although still a better gamble than the alternative.

Waking up in full control of Ventus’ body had been a pleasant surprise, but a short-lived one. It hadn’t taken Vanitas long to realize that he had lost much of his own power. The instincts and reflexes were still there, but his access to dark magic, the Corridors, it was all cut off. He didn’t have to try using them -- being made of pure darkness, Vanitas _knew_ when the very essence of his existence was suddenly missing.

It was… odd, to say the least. When he possessed Ventus years ago, the transformation had been flawless, give or take a couple differences he’d quickly adjusted to. But this… now it was like putting on a set of clothes that somebody else had broken in and worn out to the point where they couldn’t possibly be comfortable. As though he wasn’t controlling this body directly, but remotely, and his access to darkness was lost somewhere along the way.

“Something like that,” he admitted stiffly. Then, to add salt in the wound, “But yours was a decent substitute.”

That didn’t go over Ventus’ head. “As long as you didn’t hurt the others, that’s all I care about.”

“Pfeh. Then save me some time and just give in already. This’ll go a lot more smoothly for us if you do.” Otherwise, Vanitas was more than willing to use force to get his way.

“Yeah, _right._ ” Ventus also folded his arms in consideration. “If our union was messed up again, that makes twice.” He seemed to think over that for a moment. “You know… did you stop to think that maybe we’re not _supposed_ to be one anymore?”

As unexpected as that was, Vanitas didn’t have time to hide his puzzlement. Catching his expression, Ventus continued, “It didn’t work the first time. And now, even though I decided to cooperate with you -- it still didn’t work like it should have, did it?”

Again, Vanitas was quiet. Judging by Sora and the others, the process _had_ worked in both theory and practical application -- so shouldn’t it have worked even better for Ventus and himself, who were one person to begin with? Or maybe that in itself messed things up -- maybe their bond made it difficult to separate again.

Still, that didn’t account for his busted powers. If what Ventus was saying had even the slightest ring of truth to it, then maybe--

 _It doesn’t matter,_ Vanitas decided. It was clear that there was only room enough for one of them in this body, just like before. Ventus was turning out to be no help in the matter, as expected, so there was only one thing left to be done.

Keeping his mind calm -- just in case their mental link went both ways now -- Vanitas started to stretch his hand out. Ventus was still naively lost in thought, having begun to chew on his lower lip absently--

\--and a light, stinging pain worked over Vanitas’ lip in the same place.

He froze. For an instant he thought it a coincidence, but when Ventus stopped a moment later, the pressure let up.

“Look,” said Ventus impatiently, “maybe if we--”

Vanitas wasn’t listening. His mind was a blur, connecting dots and filling in blank spaces with a possibility that he didn’t like. That odd thing just now, and the force that struck his chest earlier--

_...You’re kidding me._

He summoned his Keyblade with an agitated snap of his wrist, disregarding his usual poise. He saw Ventus stiffen in wary surprise and take a guarded step back, but fighting was no longer Vanitas’ intention. In a smooth motion he spun his weapon around and gently set its jagged edge against his left forearm, just above the inside of his elbow. _Only one way to find out._

“Vanitas! What’re you--?”

Locking his teeth together, Vanitas swiftly tore the tip of his blade over his arm. Both sleeve and skin readily gave way, bright red blood instantly seeping up through the shallow cut. It took a moment for his nerves to catch up, but then pain seared along the slash, hot and deep--

 _”Augh!”_ He quickly looked up to see Ventus gripping his own arm -- his left arm, his forearm, the space right above the inside of his elbow. Grimly, Vanitas watched Ventus’ hand draw back to reveal a scarlet streak on his palm.

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me,” he repeated out loud.

Cringing, Ventus glanced at him, and Vanitas chose to skip the dialogue: he raised his wounded arm to reveal the identical injury.

Ventus stared, but then realization slowly dawned on his face. Vanitas dismissed Void Gear, though grudgingly. It looked like killing Ventus wouldn’t be so simple, after all.

“Why--?”

“If you ask me to explain this, Ventus, I’ll punch that question right back down your throat,” Vanitas snapped. Honestly, he’d had it up to _here_ with this moron’s questions-- “Or I’ll just punch myself in the face, since it seems to have the same result.”

It wasn’t a joke.

“You couldn’t have thought of a better way to test it?” Ventus frowned down at the cut, and then sucked in a hissing breath as a renewed bolt of pain coursed through it. “We don’t even have any healing spells now.”

“Boo hoo. Suck it up.” Vanitas turned aside, making another sweeping glance of the area. As expected, nothing about it had changed, but he needed to look at something other than Ventus’ annoying face.

The more he learned, the more uncertain he was about all this. Things hadn’t gone exactly according to plan, yes, that was obvious, but he wasn’t sure what to make of all these twists and side effects. He had control of their body, and yet his powers were suppressed; Ventus was locked away inside their joined heart, but he was able to see everything Vanitas could on the outside; and now they shared a physical bond as well as a stronger emotional one -- more importantly, he couldn’t hurt Ventus without hurting himself.

He couldn’t say anything for sure, but if he had to guess… maybe being the same person really had messed up the process. The other six Lights were normal -- so to speak -- and they had all separated again just fine. Maybe… maybe he and Ventus had joined a little _too_ successfully. In some ways, anyway.

Vanitas suddenly felt limited, almost claustrophobic in this shell-within-a-shell, and rather than feeling uneasy it only made him angry. Fortunately for him, anger was a source of power, not an inhibitor. Rather than pushing aside his frustration and uncertainty, he pooled them together and let it fuel his concentration.

Still, all that pent up negativity needed some kind of outlet right then. He raised his arm to suck at his oozing gash, doing so a little harder than necessary and flooding his mouth with the familiar tang of blood.

There had to be a way to fix all this. If he had died twice and lived to tell the tale, a third time wasn’t a stretch, especially when he was currently in a better state than his other deaths had left him in.

 _Except I might not have a body to return to,_ he acknowledged silently, calmly, _just like before. And I didn’t exactly bother asking the Master how he brought me back. If that’s the case… I wouldn’t have minded keeping this one, but this screw-up changes things. Barring that…_

Barring that, his actions were severely limited. Even if he humbled himself and stooped as low as asking Ventus for help, he wouldn’t bet on getting any.

Of course, he could always heed his own advice and suck it up if he had to. Losing his original abilities was unfortunate, but it wouldn’t be the death of him. Neither did he look forward to a future of toting Ventus around inside him for the rest of his life, but it was doable.

Unconsciously, Vanitas bit down on his skin -- wincing slightly as he agitated the raw edges of the cut, but the discomfort was a reminder. He’d been through worse. He was a survivor -- no. _Scavenger_ was more like it, living off of anything by any means necessary. As long as he was alive, he had options. He just had to find the best one.

In the corner of his eye he saw Ventus jump and cringe at the sting; it prompted Vanitas to grin, which probably looked even more deranged than usual between the blood on his arm and lips, but getting a kick out of somebody’s discomfort wasn’t very sane to begin with, anyway. He exhaled in a low, dark laugh before returning to his thoughts.

The finer details could be ironed out later. There was a bigger problem at present, one beyond Vanitas’ immediate control, and he currently had zero solutions in mind regarding that--

Or did he?

He didn’t have to think long. He felt himself smile again.

_Maybe I don’t have to do too much. Not yet, at least. Even if it’s not on purpose, I still have a hostage, don’t I? They won’t stand for that._

“What are you planning?” Ventus’ voice was suspicious. Rightfully so.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Vanitas replied as his arm fell away, although his own tone held too much sarcasm to be reassuring. “You should be glad, actually. I’m going to get your friends to help us.”


	4. Two For Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _if the sky comes falling down, for you  
>  There's nothing in this world I wouldn't do_

Ven--

\--no, not Ven--

\-- _Vanitas_ snapped out of his daze with a small twitch of his shoulders, head rising and sharp eyes quickly scanning the room -- until they met Terra’s, where they instantly stopped to hold his hard gaze.

Terra had been angry plenty of times before now. Angry at his failures, angry at his darkness, angry at those who would hurt his friends, angry at betrayal. In each of those cases, however, he had been able to _do_ something about it, or at least try.

That was what made this situation so particularly infuriating.

Those eyes, that expression -- they weren’t Ven’s. They didn’t belong on Ven. _Vanitas_ didn’t belong in Ven, and yet here he was, having stolen something that wasn’t his, something personal that nobody should ever have taken away from them--

Terra knew. Terra had been there. And the only thing more painful, uncomfortable, and humiliating than those memories was looking at his best friend now going through the same thing.

And, as it stood, Terra couldn’t do anything to help.

He didn’t budge when Vanitas looked at him, but remained where he was with his arms crossed over his chest. The main hall of the Land of Departure’s castle was well-lit despite that it was after dark, illuminated by magical torches that ran along each wall at head-height. Terra stood before the small staircase at the head of the room, facing the three thrones; in the middle sat Ven’s body and the one currently possessing it, his arms bound to the sides of the chair with chains of light. Eraqus’ magic, meaning there was no way he was breaking free on his own.

But Vanitas didn’t seem perturbed. Rather, he only looked vaguely annoyed as he observed Terra, the haughty face he was making so _not_ -Ven that it was almost offensive. “Should’ve known it’d be you,” he remarked dismissively. The voice, too, was all wrong -- too guttural, too flat, too lacking in Ven’s spirit and warmth.

Terra’s fingers tightened slightly. He was only here to watch Vanitas -- he and Aqua were taking shifts while Eraqus was away -- so there was no need to try and question him yet. Anything he said would just have to be repeated, and it would be best to have everybody here to listen and put their heads together.

Regardless, Terra didn’t intend to sit by and do nothing in the meantime.

“Let me talk to Ven,” he said firmly.

Vanitas cocked an eyebrow. “And why would I do that?” When Terra didn’t reply, Vanitas gave a low grunt of a laugh. “You sure he’s alive? Maybe I’m all that’s left.”

“He’s there.” Terra’s reply was level and confident. “It’s faint, but I can feel him.”

His -- Ven’s -- lips twisting slightly, Vanitas shrugged a shoulder and leaned back in his chair, squirming a bit under what little leeway the chains gave him to get comfortable. He brought one leg up onto the throne, utterly casual and entirely disrespectful towards the hallowed ground on which they stood. “Tell me something first,” he replied, “and I’ll think about it. You joined your heart with Aqua’s in the Graveyard. What happened when you did?”

Terra’s eyes narrowed. It seemed like a harmless enough question, but he knew nothing of Vanitas’ intentions or what all was going on inside him. The fact that Vanitas knew about that in such detail was suspicious, as well. “Why do you want to know?”

Vanitas cocked his head, a nonverbal gesture of _What are you, stupid?_ “Does it matter? If you want to talk to Ventus, now’s your chance. There’s not much else you can offer me, y’know.”

A few moments passed in silence as Terra thought that over. Finally, and without looking away from Vanitas for even a second, he answered shortly, “I heard the king’s voice telling me to find my light. Aqua found me first. I felt--” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “It was like our hearts healed one another. We went from darkness to light, and then we were back in the Graveyard.”

“Could you still feel her after that?”

“No. Not any more than usual.”

Vanitas broke eye contact, looking thoughtfully to the side. Between that and his line of questioning, Terra could only point towards one conclusion. “That’s how you joined with Ven, isn’t it? You saved each other, but… something went wrong.” They hadn’t separated afterwards. It was a logical assumption, except that Terra couldn’t imagine why Ven would have willingly cooperated with and protected Vanitas, even if it was to save himself in return. That much didn’t add up.

Maybe he _hadn’t_ done it willingly -- perhaps Vanitas had forced the union on him, and that was why he was in control now.

“So you’ve got some brain under that muscle, after all.”

“I told you what you wanted to know,” Terra insisted, ignoring the insult. “Now let me talk to him.”

Vanitas watched him with a skeptical eye, as though weighing the risks and rewards of keeping his word. If he didn’t, there was nothing Terra could do.

Closing his eyes -- and rolling them as he did so -- Vanitas lowered his head again as though drifting off to sleep. Terra waited, unsure if he was being ignored -- and now doubting whether it was even possible for Ven to speak, because there was no telling if this case was the same as what Terra had gone through or not, and if it was--

“Terra?”

The word was quiet, but there seemed to be an echo despite that there hadn’t been one before. More importantly, that voice lacked the hard edge that Vanitas had put on it. Now it was gentle. Familiar.

“Ven?” Terra’s surprise showed. It kept him rooted to the spot for all of a heartbeat before he hurried forward, dropping to his knees in front of the throne. Ven’s head was still hanging towards his chest and his eyes remained closed. “Ven! Are you alright?”

Ven smiled, but otherwise didn’t move. “I’m fine. Don’t worry so much.” At this range, Terra realized that what he’d heard wasn’t an echo -- alongside Ven’s voice was another different, deeper one that spoke the same words at the same time.

“Ven…” Terra put a hand on his blond head, sighing quietly. “I’m sorry. We couldn’t get to you in time--”

“It’s okay. He was planning this for a long time. I don’t think there was any way you could’ve reached me first.”

“Planning this? Vanitas?” Terra watched him closely, hoping to get something -- anything -- off of that blank face. “Why? What happened?”

Ven hesitated. “It… it’s a long story,” he said in that overlay of voices. “But I’m still here. We’re just reversed now.”

“Reversed?”

“It’s not like last time, either. I can’t fight him. That’s not how it works.”

There were a thousand things Terra wanted to ask, but Ven’s rushed tone suggested that there wasn’t enough time. Instead, he bit back his desperate curiosity and focused on the most important question. “What do we need to do, Ven? Tell me.”

Ven frowned this time. “I don’t know. I don’t… think he knows for sure, either. But -- Terra -- be careful. I can tell he’s planning somethi--” He suddenly lurched, twisting sharply in his seat as his face screwed up with pain.

“Ven!”

His short nails scratched the arms of the throne and he threw his head back, striking the chair hard enough to make Terra wince. The chains rattled but held tight. The dual voices cried out, and for the first time they were different: Ven’s was a defiant yell, the other a challenging snarl. Both cut off at once, and then he slumped forward with his chest heaving.

“Ven!” Terra stood and gripped the boy’s shoulders to ease him back, but Ven’s head rolled limply to the side. “Come on -- Ventus, answer me!”

Slowly, Ven’s eyes fluttered open -- and to Terra’s disappointment they were still a bright, mocking gold. Vanitas gave him a crooked smile. “Time’s up.”

Before Terra could respond, there was the sound of quick footsteps at the far end of the hall. “Terra! I thought I heard a--”

He looked back to see Aqua round the top of the stairs, coming to a dead halt when she spotted him and Vanitas. Realizing that he still had a hold of him, Terra let go and stepped back. “We’re fine.” He tried to settle on a neutral expression, but the look on Aqua’s face said it was probably a failure. She resumed her approach at a speed just below a trot, a concerned frown on her features. Despite that she should have been sleeping, she didn’t look as though she had just woken up. She wasn’t in her pajamas, either, but had only gone as far as undressing down to her base top and shorts.

Joining him at the foot of the stairs, Aqua observed Vanitas silently with a look that managed to be both strict and a little pained. Vanitas met her stare head-on, but said nothing.

“Are you sure?” she wondered, turning a gentler gaze up at Terra. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “We were just… talking.”

Aqua blinked in surprise, although there was a shadow of uncertainty to it. It probably hadn’t looked like they were “just talking” when she came in.

Vanitas must have noticed, as well. “It’s not like he’d have the spine to do anything else,” he spoke up, once again using Ven’s voice. “Guess it takes a special kind of person to hurt somebody who idolizes them. Doesn’t it, _Aqua?"_

Terra didn’t have to look at her to know that Aqua had tensed with irritation. “It might,” she said coolly. “If it comes down to that again, I’ll do what I have to.”

“Heh. Don’t get me wrong, I respect that way of thinking. You’re not as soft as you look. What about you, Terra?” he asked more loudly. “Could you raise your Keyblade against Ventus when it mattered?”

Terra didn’t answer.

“Or would you leave her with the dirty work, like always?”

Terra’s fists clenched at his sides. He looked up to see Aqua approach Vanitas, her face stern as she reached towards him. Her palm had barely settled against his forehead when his eyes closed, heavy and instant, and his body slumped back against the throne. As she finished her Sleep spell, Aqua said without looking back,

“You don’t have to listen to this, Terra.”

He inhaled sharply, about to respond, but decided against it and just sighed quietly instead, shoulders sagging. “No,” he said in a defeated voice, “I shouldn’t let him get to me.”

“It’s what Vanitas does.” Arm crossed tightly over her stomach, Aqua wandered back over to stand beside him. “I’m sure he’s not going to make this any easier for us if he can help it.”

Nodding distractedly, Terra glanced over at their unconscious friend. He looked entirely like Ven again, sleeping peacefully without an apparent care in the world.

“...When I said we were talking, I meant I was talking to Ven,” he told her, his voice a little quieter. Aqua’s lips parted in surprise, her eyes widening. “Vanitas let him… take over, I guess, for a minute.”

“What did he say?”

“That Vanitas is planning something,” he said solemnly, his frown returning. “But it sounds like neither one of them really knows what’s going on inside them right now.”

“Oh…” Aqua didn’t -- or couldn’t -- hide her disappointment.

“But,” Terra added, “he told me... he doesn’t blame us for what happened. For not catching him first.”

“Hm.” It was a warm hum as Aqua gave a small, sad smile. “That’s Ven, all right.” She rubbed her arms as she looked up and down the dark hall. “Why don’t you go ahead to bed, Terra? I’ll take over.”

“But you already--”

“I know.” The sad smile returned. “But... I don’t think I’m getting much sleep tonight.”

“That makes two of us.” Terra was exhausted, having yet to get some proper rest since the battle, but his concern for Ven had beaten out fatigue for the last day and a half. He didn’t doubt that Aqua was in the same boat. Eraqus and Mickey were supposed to return in the morning, as well, hopefully with good news and a solution after their talk with Yen Sid.

More waiting, in short. Terra hated it.

“Well,” said Aqua, aiming for a lighthearted tone, “it doesn’t make much sense for us both to be here.”

Terra knew what she meant -- there was no reason that they both be miserably exhausted and deprived of sleep -- but even for her, he couldn’t play along with the optimism. “Doesn’t it?”

Aqua stared at him, her light smile fading, and Terra instantly felt guilty. “...Sorry,” he murmured. “I just meant…”

“I know,” she said quietly, barely above a whisper. She gave his arm an affectionate squeeze, sweeping her thumb over his skin. “And you’re right. If it’s one of us, it’s all three of us.”

Terra nodded again. “He’d do the same for us.”

“Mm.”

For a long moment they said nothing -- not looking at each other or Ven-Vanitas or even anything in particular. Just thinking. Reflecting. “I’ll be right back,” said Aqua suddenly. She made a beeline for the staircase without another word, descending at a quick pace, and was soon lost from view.

She returned a couple minutes later bearing two large blankets and a couple pillows; as Terra moved to help her with the load, he realized she had stripped the comforters off of both their beds. She smiled as she took one and spread it out along the marble floor, just below the throne steps. “If we’re spending the night here, we might as well be comfortable,” she pointed out. “Ven would get after us otherwise.”

That managed to bring a small smile to Terra’s face. He handed her the next blanket and she laid it out on top of the first, and then plopped the pillows down on the makeshift bed. She had also brought a smaller, well-worn quilt -- he recognized it as the one she’d had since she was really little, that usually stayed folded up at the end of her bed outside the winter months -- and taking this she draped it over Ven’s still form, even tucking in the sides as though he were a small(er) child.

Terra chuckled. “Ven might be a little insulted by that.” Then again, Vanitas probably would be, too.

“Let him be,” Aqua replied as she straightened up. Her smile had gained a slight shade of teasing. “This is probably the last chance I’ll get to do it.”

Terra dropped onto the blankets with a short sigh, glad for the break after being on his feet for the last few hours. He claimed the lefthand side, the side closer to Ven, and fell onto his back to stare at the high ceiling. Aqua joined him a moment later, stretching out alongside him.

Again that thoughtful silence fell, interrupted only by her low breathing and his own steady heartbeat in his ears. The longer it stretched on, the more his brief bout of good humor faded to leave him solemn -- and a little anxious -- once more.

 _’It’s not like last time, either,’_ Ven had said. _’I can’t fight him. That’s not how it works.’_

 _It_ what? And how did he know that? As reluctant as Terra was to reflect on his darker memories, he couldn’t help drawing a comparison. Back then, locked in the endless darkness of Xehanort’s heart, he hadn’t exactly been aware, per se -- when his body was torn from his control, his senses had gone with it. Sounds and visuals had been murky and unclear. Anything Terra knew, he’d usually only known by reading off of Xehanort’s emotions or, rarely, when Xehanort spoke to him directly. There had been no sense of time; mercifully, Terra was more or less asleep during those years. The only exception -- that he could recall -- had been during Xehanort’s fight against Aqua in Radiant Garden.

Ven, however, seemed to be retaining a certain level of awareness. Maybe it was the nature of his bond with Vanitas, or some side effect of the X-blade’s involvement, but Terra couldn’t dismiss the possibility that Ven was seeing everything Vanitas did. He wasn’t sure if that was more reassuring or worrisome.

“Terra.”

Breaking from his thoughts, he looked over to see Aqua watching him, her eyes and frown sympathetic. “We’ll figure it out. Ven’s still in there; that’s what matters.”

He hesitated, but managed to give her a tired, halfhearted smile. “Right. Let’s focus on one fight at a time.”

* * *

“Don’t talk to them like that!”

As expected, retreating into himself had brought Vanitas face-to-face with an irate Ventus. “It’s not like I said anything that wasn’t true,” he countered glibly. Ventus scowled, but Vanitas replied with a cold smile as a thought suddenly occurred to him. “Oh, right -- you still don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“Back then, the first time we rejoined. Who d’you think had control of our body on the outside?”

Ventus continued to glower, but after a couple seconds it wavered. Vanitas’ smile smoothed into a dark grin. He’d given in to Terra’s request purely as a double-sided bargaining chip -- a way of bluntly reminding them that Ventus was, to a degree, at his mercy and in need of rescuing -- but the reverse effect on Ventus himself wasn’t a bad bonus. “Bingo. I’ll give credit where it’s due, though. Aqua’s not as much of a bleeding heart as you’d thi--”

“Shut up,” Ventus snapped. Vanitas knew him well enough to figure that the quieter he was, the angrier he was, and that retort had barely been audible. His fists were clenched at his sides and shaking slightly. Huh. He’d taken after Terra in more than a few ways.

Vanitas shrugged, unalarmed. “That’s good news for you, idiot. You’ve got at least one person who’s not afraid to get her hands dirty.”

“You’re wrong about Terra,” said Ventus firmly, still in that low, seething tone. “He’ll do what he has to.”

“Ha. You sure about that? I think he’s a lot softer than you realize.” Nose wrinkling, Vanitas didn’t conceal his disdain. “Honestly, when you took over I thought he was gonna start crying or s--”

In the blink of an eye Ventus closed the distance between them and threw out a sharp punch. There was room to dodge there, but Vanitas didn’t move -- he actually turned _toward_ Ventus more fully, letting that fist strike him square on the chin.

Ventus was stronger than he looked. They both staggered backwards: Vanitas from the impact, Ventus from the impact’s shadow. Despite the ache throbbing in his jaw now, Vanitas recovered and flashed another thin smile.

“Don’t tell me you forgot already.”

The skin under Ventus’ mouth was already blossoming a bright red, but his glare wasn’t the look of regret. “I don’t care how connected we are. Don’t talk about them!”

“Or what? You gonna beat us both to a bloody pulp? Is that your plan?” The usual apathy in Vanitas’ voice cracked. He’d thought this new bond of theirs would put a leash on Ventus’ immature outbursts, but apparently not. The threat of a fight didn’t bother him -- the lack of it irritated him more than he would show. It was the way Ventus continued to _not_ think that grated his last nerve. That blatant display of stupidity was downright frustrating.

Maybe it was equally immature, but it only encouraged Vanitas to egg him on even more.

“Heh. Why don’t we see how much you can take, then?” He spread his arms in a defenseless, welcoming gesture. He felt Ventus grind his teeth, but he didn’t move. Vanitas rolled his eyes. “Oh, right, you need an excuse. Who should I insult next?”

 _”Stop it,_ Vanitas.”

“You think you’re tough enough, don’t you? Then go ahead. Shut me up yourself. _Put me in my place, Ventus._ ”

“I’m _not_ playing along--”

“Why not? You might as well. It took them over a decade to save you before -- they might leave us tied to this chair for _another_ thirteen years, especially since your Master already has his precious favorite back--”

That did it. Ventus swung again, but Vanitas hadn’t exactly been honest: he didn’t plan to stand idly by a second time. He countered the attack just as quickly, catching Ventus’ wrist and giving a hard twist that used his momentum against him: Ventus was flipped and thrown hard onto his back, the breath knocked from his lungs in a loud grunt. The pain of the impact rippled down Vanitas’ shoulders as well, but it was minor and he gave no indication of having felt it.

“How stupid can you get?” Gone was his cruel humor; his voice and expression were dark, bordering on threatening. His grip on Ventus’ wrist was hard, tight enough to feel a pulse under his fingers, but he resisted the urge to break it. “You obviously didn’t learn your lesson last time, so let’s try again.” He managed to keep most of the biting sarcasm from his tone. Insults aside, he wanted Ventus to listen. “Think about it. I know everything about you -- I _am_ you. If you could resist lashing out when _I_ provoke you, do you think you’d ever have to worry about anybody else?”

Ventus gave off a feeling of uncertainty and annoyance. His frown matched. “You’re giving me advice now?” he asked skeptically.

“More or less. Letting you fly off the handle made things easier in the past, but as long as we’re stuck like this, a little _self-control_ would be appreciated,” Vanitas snapped. Not least of all because the strength of Ventus’ emotions was slightly unnerving; while Vanitas had reassumed control of their body at will minutes ago, it wasn’t as easy as he had thought. The second Ventus had felt resistance, he fought back, but not in the way Vanitas expected. Rather than a mental struggle, a brick wall of emotion -- love for Terra, the rock-steady desire to warn and protect him, and a desperate reluctance to be separated again -- had nearly knocked Vanitas’ mental grip loose.

Vanitas wasn’t even sure if Ventus had done that on purpose. He didn’t think so -- it had happened too fast to be a conscious attack -- but he’d rather not risk it again. As irritating as it was, he needed to avoid underestimating Ventus’ friendships.

“You know me by now. I’d never fall for being provoked,” Vanitas went on. “You could stand to learn a thing or two from me.”

“I don’t want to be like _you--_ ” Tugging hard against that iron grasp, Ventus twisted swiftly in place and slammed both legs against Vanitas’ knees.

This time Vanitas did snarl in discomfort, but caught himself with his free hand before he hit the ethereal ground. He released Ventus, recovered in a roll, and -- _Screw it_ \-- summoned his Keyblade as he swiveled back around in his low crouch--

\--only for it to meet Ventus’ Keyblade in a clash. Despite the harsh shockwave that worked down each of their arms, the impact made no sound -- it was eerily silent except for Ventus’ sharp breathing.

They regarded one another coldly over their locked weapons, but only for a second: Vanitas shifted to a two-handed grip to throw all of his strength into batting the stalemate aside, switching his Keyblade to his left hand at the end of it. The window of opportunity was small, but he took it -- by diving forward and slamming his right forearm against Ventus’ throat to knock him back. They landed together and Vanitas planted his knees firmly on either side of Ventus’ hips, most of his weight shifting to his arm to keep him pinned. Ventus made a swing with his Keyblade, but Vanitas dismissed his own weapon and intercepted the hasty blow, catching Ventus’ fist and redirecting the blade narrowly over his side. A quick twist locked their arms together at the elbow, putting just enough uncomfortable pressure on the joint that Ventus couldn’t pull free unless he was willing to risk dislocating it. The recent slash on Vanitas’ arm throbbed in protest, but went ignored.

They came to a tensed standstill. Despite the flurry of activity, there wasn’t even the slightest hitch in either one’s breathing; it seemed physical activity was relative in this place, which made sense, considering they weren’t “physically” here at all. Regardless, the weight on Ventus’ neck was clearly uncomfortable: his face said so, as did his flare of annoyance, and Vanitas felt the ghost of pressure on his own throat. He kept perfectly still, drawing out the pause to let Ventus take in his own vulnerability, to let his frustration build.

“ _Almost_ ,” Vanitas taunted, clearly unimpressed. “You really do have a chain a mile long, you know that?” Despite having effectively lost patience, he managed a condescending smirk. “Then again, I guess that’s fine with me. As misguided and overly dramatic as it is, I prefer all that anger.” He put more of his weight forward and pain echoed through his neck up to the back of his skull. Ventus struggled, pushing against him with his free hand, but Vanitas had the advantage and barely budged. “Maybe our Master had it all wrong,” he mused. “Maybe he could’ve skipped splitting us in two and just used your anger against you. Drawn out our darkness that way.”

“Wanna try it?” Ventus snapped, voice strained. Vanitas sneered at that, equal parts amusement and condescension as he held that narrow gaze.

“Nah. Even now, we’re still too separate. I know you can feel it, too.” He tilted his head considerately. “In here, at least. On the outside, though…” He made a noise, either a skeptical grunt or an ominous half-laugh. He would let Ventus guess which. “Hey, that might not be a half-bad idea, after all. Our body’s so limited by your light right now… maybe driving you over the edge could fix that.”

“It’s _mine_ , not _ours._ I’ll get rid of you soon enough.”

The stubbornness was expected, but that was a surprisingly calm and collected remark, coming from Ventus. That cockiness touched something inside Vanitas, something very deep and dark and dangerous, and for an instant he wondered what would happen if he ran Ventus through with his Keyblade there and then, physical bond or not.

Like always, he swallowed the emotion and held back. He was better than that -- always had been -- and two could play this game, besides.

He pushed up against Ventus’ chin roughly, forcing his head back. It wasn’t as effective as a chokehold, but pain wasn’t Vanitas’ goal. Their link aside, Ventus would just bounce back from it like always. No, Vanitas wanted to prove that he didn’t need to _hurt_ him to cause him pain. He wanted to make him well aware of his weakness, to strip all the optimism away from his flaws and reveal them for what they were, to give a solid kick to his irritating confidence -- because that, more than anything else about this, rubbed Vanitas the wrong way. Here he was, wondering whether it was even possible for him to come out of this matter alive, much less whole, but there had been no doubt or fear from Ventus this entire time. He was still so sure, still had the utmost faith in his friends coming to save him. If he had any misgivings, he was hiding them well.

Vanitas was more than happy to supply a reality check. Besides, if Ventus was so unconcerned about his problematic temper, why not put it to the test? Why not pull out as much negativity as he could and use it to smother those other, more powerful emotions?

It wasn’t as though Vanitas had anything better to do at the moment.

“It’s a shame you don’t remember fighting Aqua,” he remarked, going straight for the low blow. He felt Ventus stiffen underneath him and it brought him some petty satisfaction -- not only had his words hit home, but there was something gratifying about feeling that twinge, especially when it went _so well_ with that angry look. Ventus had always been an open book, but now he would know without a doubt how futile it was to try hiding anything. “That was probably the only time she’d go all out against you. She’s not terrible, but kind of disappointing for a Master.”

“Who asked you?”

“Terra, though?” Vanitas went on. “He’s the opposite, just like you. Strong, but he’s a self-righteous martyr who’s all too easy to break when the right strings get pulled.”

In the corner of his eye Ventus’ left fist swung. He wouldn’t be able to build up much momentum at this range and any pain would be inconsequential, but that was beside the point. Vanitas let up on his pin-hold to jerk backwards, dodging the swing, and all but smacked Ventus’ arm out of the air to pin it above his head -- and, very intentionally, Vanitas drove the heel of his hand into that open, Keyblade-inflicted injury from before. Ventus hissed, jerked, but it did him no good.

Flashing the most insufferable grin he could muster, Vanitas suggested smugly, “There’s another similarity, too, isn’t there?” If looks could kill, he was quite certain Ventus would have managed to strike him down by now. “I never did get to fight him one-on-one. I wonder whose darkness is stronger: his or ours?”

Ventus actually kept his mouth shut for once, settling for the glare that seemed far too dark and bitter for his naive baby-face. With a low _hmph_ , Vanitas let his posture sag until their foreheads nearly made contact. He could tell that Ventus hated being touched by him, hated the proximity; it hit some tender nerve, something that felt a lot like violent denial.

Vanitas sensed that now, along with a renewed wave of anger. Refusal. Frustration. Hatred. Backing negativity into a corner, he knew, was the best way of making it thrive.

“Let’s find out,” he said quietly, seriously. On one end it was a challenge, a dare, a sarcastic bet that he didn’t expect Ventus to take -- but on the other it was sincere. Ventus’ refusal to accept him -- if not his presence, period -- had to be the factor that was limiting their power. If it meant getting that power back, Vanitas wasn’t above cooperation, blackmail, or anything in-between. “Open up to me again. All the way this time. We’ll see if he comes running to save you or not.”

Ventus gave a sudden, sharp tug of his arm to try and break free, but Vanitas just tightened his grip -- hard, until his fingers hurt. Then he leaned closer still, over Ventus’ shoulder to speak into his ear, and was glad when he sensed that frustration-disgust-anger-hate doubling in intensity. He could have smiled, but his superior self-control kept it in check.

“Maybe you’re right,” Vanitas went on coolly, “and he’ll fight you, and win, and you’ll never have to see me again. Or…” He hesitated, letting Ventus’ imagination ponder the alternative for a moment -- and then suddenly ground his palm into that wound, harder, until Ventus cried out and writhed underneath him and Vanitas felt the warmth of fresh blood. “...maybe not.” He felt the pain just as clearly, but he forced himself with everything he had to remain still and composed. He didn’t have the same level of control over his voice, however, so his words were taut and his breath short. “Maybe he _can’t_ , and watching your hero fall apart will be exactly what I need to break you completely.”

Somewhere, on some level, he felt something in Ventus falter. He couldn’t precisely pin it down, but he knew he’d managed to wedge in a little bit of doubt somewhere. That was good enough. Vanitas exhaled in a silent, snide laugh, the agonizing fire in his arm pushing his grim satisfaction to something near hysterical, almost giddy. “If you trust him so much, why don’t we let him decide?”

Ventus didn’t reply.

“Prove me wrong,” Vanitas urged eagerly, “if you _can._ Reach for my heart, just like before--”

“No.” The objection was quiet. Halfhearted.

“Become what we were meant to be. Accept what you were then and what you _still are--_ ” Vanitas’ voice cut off in a choke as pain suddenly exploded in his mouth: a sharp, intense, flooding pain that made him jerk in surprise, his grips on Ventus’ arms loosening slightly. Ventus was ready for it and wrenched his hips forcefully to the side, offsetting Vanitas’ balance and jerking an arm free. Still in startled agony, Vanitas scrambled backwards and prepared to block another punch -- but instead Ventus caught him around the middle to roll them both to the side. It was clumsy, but effective, because his Key hand came free in the tangle as well.

Vanitas hit his back with a heavy weight on his chest: Ventus pinned him, slamming the point of his weapon into the ground with barely an inch to spare between the blade and Vanitas’ cheek. He kept a fist on Vanitas’ collarbone, glaring with thin shoulders shaking, but otherwise didn’t go to any great lengths to restrain him.

Which made sense, Vanitas figured. Ventus was far too much of an honorable fighter for that kind of thing -- mostly. His mouth was still throbbing, but Vanitas had to smirk his approval when he noticed the blood at the corners of Ventus’ lips, smeared across his teeth as they were bared in a scowl. Sure enough, Vanitas swallowed and tasted copper.

“Not bad.” Slowly, he brought his hand around to his own mouth. His gloved fingertips came away with a wet sheen. “Heh. You’re a little sharper than I give you credit for.” It was a crude but clever tactic: Ventus had bitten down on his own tongue, using the transferred pain as a distraction. Had it even occurred to Vanitas as a possibility before, he never would have thought Ventus would actually do it. “I’m gonna bet your Master didn’t teach you to play dirty like that.”

It was subtle, but Vanitas felt him twitch. Ventus’ glare lingered, but turned distracted, somehow, and there was a glimpse of… uncertainty. Realization. Shame? Then, with a quiet snort, Ventus abruptly stood up and stepped back. “No.” Although his Keyblade remained in hand, although blood dribbled from his elbow to his wrist, his posture actually relaxed -- the pacifist once again. “You’re rubbing off on me.”

Vanitas gave his own dismissive snort as he sat up, only to quickly stop when Ventus reached for him -- no, when he offered an open hand. Dumbfounded, Vanitas defaulted to annoyance and shot him a narrow, suspicious look. “What’s that?”

“It’s called helping.”

Where did _that_ come from?

Even with their emotional link, Vanitas couldn’t tell what had possessed Ventus to do that, or whether it was sincere. As naive as he was, it had to be, but... He was still angry, Vanitas could tell, still sore over those comments about his friends, but it was no longer a boiling rage. Something had helped him reign it in.

With an arrogant scoff Vanitas batted the hand aside, leaping easily to his feet on his own. Ventus took that cue to dismiss his Keyblade and wipe his good arm across his bloody mouth, but Vanitas went on eying him the way one regards something that might suddenly explode. Then he gave a tight, humorless smile.

“Don’t think you can hide behind your light, Ventus. Ignoring your darkness won’t make you shine any brighter -- not where it matters.”

Shaking his head, Ventus replied shortly, “It’s not that.” Vanitas blinked; Ventus angled his weight back casually on one heel, still distracted and annoyed -- but calm. “It’s just… you mentioned my Master. He always talked about how the worlds would be better off without darkness -- and I still believe that,” he added with a hint of emphasis. “But… he always talked about it in ifs. ‘Would that we could be rid of it,’ ‘if only it could be snuffed out completely.’ I didn’t understand then, but…”

He hesitated, thoughtful, but Vanitas didn’t offer any cutting remarks for once. If he was being honest with himself, he was genuinely curious about where this was headed.

“I lost my darkness,” Ventus continued, “but you keep coming back to haunt me. I think…” He tilted his head and -- way too trusting -- stared thoughtfully to the side. “...it might mean that darkness _can’t_ be destroyed. Not totally. And if that’s right--” He met Vanitas’ gaze again -- and actually gave a stiff smile, but there was a distance about the expression that said it wasn’t meant for him. “--then I won’t try. But I won’t give into it, either.”

“Meaning?”

“I’ll balance it.”

Vanitas’ face darkened, but his mouth was a firm line. “Balance?” he echoed skeptically. “Seriously?”

Ventus nodded. “That’s right. With the way we are now, we can’t fight each other. You know that. But even if we could…” He frowned. “Even if I won… I’m not sure I can really get rid of you. But I’m not giving in to you, and I know you won’t give in to me -- so there’s only one thing left to do.”

“What?” Vanitas wondered sarcastically. “Shakes hands and play nice?” He didn’t want to admit that Ventus might have been on to something; at least, it didn’t sound wrong.

“Something like that,” Ventus quipped. “If you’re right, and there’s a chance that I could still give into my -- into our darkness,” he corrected, “then I won’t take that chance. Say and do whatever you want. I won’t play along.”

Well, that was disappointing. Vanitas, as he’d said, was more than willing to let Terra be the proverbial coin toss in the matter, and stressing Ventus’ anger seemed to be a legitimate solution. Judging by that self-righteous spiel, however, that possibility had just gone out the window. Regardless, while Vanitas was definitely irritated, he was surprised to find himself feeling almost grudgingly content. He didn’t place so much faith in their light, nor in waiting for others to help them, but that wasn’t it -- Ventus himself had caught his attention. He still looked the same on the outside and felt the same on the inside, but that show of poise and restraint just now was surprising.

Maybe Ventus had heeded his earlier advice, after all.

Vanitas didn’t admire it or anything so ridiculous -- rather, he was hit with a feeling along the lines of _It’s about **time.**_ He had been angry and even insulted the first time they met after their separation, frustrated that his other, “more whole” half was such an immature, emotional weakling. Had Ventus been more like this back then…

...It wouldn’t have changed anything, ultimately. But Vanitas would have been spared some frustration.

Again he shrugged with a lazy twitch of his shoulder. “Fine. We’ll see if you can walk the way you talk. But,” he added, “I’m not about to sit around and wait forever for your white knights. If they don’t figure something out soon, I’ll take you up on that offer of yours and do what I have to.” His voice dropped a few degrees, losing its casual air. “Don’t think for a second that sharing our pain like this makes a difference to me. I’m willing to bet that you’d break long before I do.”

Ventus held his gaze evenly, coolly, and Vanitas couldn’t detect anything telling in his emotions, either. “It won’t come to that,” he said resolutely.

“You’d better hope so.”


	5. Calm Amid The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around. You tell them things that you’ve never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you say and actually want to hear more. You share hopes for the future, dreams that will never come true, goals that were never achieved and the many disappointments life has thrown at you."_ -Bob Marley

Aqua winced as she awoke. Despite her makeshift padding, the marble floor hadn’t been kind to her and she discovered several kinks in her back and shoulders as she stretched. Blinking in the daylight, she found that she’d curled up snug against Terra’s back during the night. For a few drowsy seconds she was lost, struggling to remember why they were on the floor and sharing a sleeping space for the first in a long time, but she didn’t mind. Her muscles were still sore from the battle, she felt like she could sleep an extra eight hours at _least_ , and his warmth was comfortable and reassuring…

_Ven._

Her fatigue vanished. Aqua bolted upright and quickly, frantically looked around, but then relaxed a moment later when she found him. He remained bound to the throne, by all appearances still fast asleep. She let out the breath she was holding.

Terra hadn’t stirred. Other than the three of them, the hall was empty. Slowly and stiffly, Aqua climbed to her feet and squinted at the clock on the far wall. Still pretty early. She made her way to the far end of the room, to the large window above the foyer. It was too far up and over to see out of, but she and Terra had come up with a solution to that problem a long time ago.

She shook her head to clear it, making certain she was entirely awake for this, and then stepped up onto the railing. It would require more care now that she was twice as tall as she once was; one wrong move and she’d drop a story onto the hard floor, but she remembered all the hand- and footholds even now. Slowly, using the decorative indents and protrusions in the wall as though scaling a mountainside, Aqua sidled along until the windowsill was in reach, and then hauled herself up to sit in the bottom half of the circle.

The stained glass cast a rainbow of colors over her chest and legs, her form throwing a shadow along the golden floor. From here she could watch the courtyard for her Master’s return without leaving Terra and Ven.

She’d fallen asleep pretty quickly the night before, so her thoughts had been put on hold. Now they came shuffling back in no particular order, flitting between her concern for Ven, sympathy for Terra, impatience for a solution, curiosity as to how the others were doing… and, lastly but still there, irritation at Vanitas.

She didn’t have time to be mad at him, nor would it solve anything, but the protective instinct was there nonetheless, and not just towards Ven. Terra didn’t say it, but he was as bad at hiding his feelings as always; Aqua had noticed his looks, his posture, his hesitation. He probably saw himself in Ven -- and he probably knew exactly what he was going through.

Aqua sighed silently. Xehanort was gone, but pieces of his legacy remained. Not just in Vanitas, either, but in all of them. Nobody had come out of this without scars, even if some were more obvious than others.

She pulled her eyes away from her sleeping friends and glanced down at the courtyard -- and quickly straightened up. A portal to the Lanes had opened in the middle of the plaza, and as she watched she saw Eraqus emerge from it in his armor.

She didn’t wait. She climbed to her feet and _leapt_ back to the railing, vaulting it and jogging back across the room. Quietly, she dropped to her knees beside Terra and gave his shoulder a shake. “Terra!” Her voice was barely above a whisper. If possible, she would rather not deal with Vanitas’ commentary just yet.

“What,” Terra mumbled, trying to wave her off.

“Terra, the Master’s returned.” That got his attention. He groaned low in his chest, rolling onto his back as he pressed his palms into his eyes. Aqua stood again. “I’ll meet you there,” she told him. “I need to get dressed.”

He squinted up at her, clearly not following as quickly as he should have been. “You _are_ dressed,” he said blankly.

Short on time, Aqua ignored him and trotted for the staircase. She was dressed enough to be around him and Ven, sure, but at her age these base clothes weren’t decent enough to greet a couple of Masters, including her own. It took her all of a minute to reach her room and tie on her corset, slip on her sleeves and chest strap, and step into her boots. She ran her fingers through her hair as she headed back up the hall, deciding Ven was far more important than straightening out some mild bedhead.

She had just set foot on the main staircase when she noticed Terra at the castle doors, waving her over. “Aqua! Out here.”

_Outside?_ Frowning, she nonetheless obeyed and jogged over. The sunlight here was much brighter and more intense, making her wince for a few seconds before her eyes adjusted. When they did, she immediately spotted several figures in the courtyard below.

“Master Eraqus wants to meet outside first,” said Terra before she could ask. When she met his gaze, he added, “With _out_ Vanitas.”

Her frown smoothed into a thin line. She nodded. That was good, she supposed -- it meant they must have discovered a solution, surely…

Together they hurried down the steps, and at the bottom they immediately and respectfully straightened up to their full heights as Eraqus approached. Mickey stood a little ways behind him, and at his side--

Aqua blinked, unable to hide her surprise. “Riku?”

Despite that he had been watching her and Terra’s approach, the young Master perked up at the sound of his name, regarding them with a formal posture not unlike the way they greeted Eraqus.

“Yes,” Eraqus confirmed with a brief backwards glance. “There is much to discuss. But first, how is Ventus?” Despite his usual level tone, Aqua noticed the way his eyes softened at the corners.

She and Terra exchanged looks. “He’s all right,” she said after a heartbeat. “Terra spoke with him. It sounds like Ven is aware of what’s happened so far.”

All three Masters looked surprised at that news. “With Ventus himself?” asked Eraqus.

“Yes, Master. It seems they can take turns having control, if Vanitas lets him,” Terra added grimly.

With a hum low in this throat, Eraqus pondered that for a few seconds. “...That is good to hear,” he said quietly, “but it’s troubling, as well.”

“Master?”

Eraqus nodded once, decisively. “Come. We’ll speak here.”

The five of them formed a circle there in the plaza, where Terra quickly brought them up to speed on what had passed the night before. When he finished, everybody was thoughtfully silent for a short pause.

“I wouldn’t take Vanitas at his word,” Terra went on, “but Ven pretty much confirmed it. Something went wrong when their hearts joined.”

Crossing her arms over her stomach, Aqua pressed her mouth against her hand as her mind worked. “You say it ‘went wrong,’ ” she pointed out, “but how do we know this wasn’t Vanitas’ intention from the start?”

“I thought about that. But something Ven said has been bugging me; he doesn’t know how we can fix this, but he also told me, ‘I don’t think he knows for sure, either.’ ”

For the first time, Riku spoke up. “Meaning… something went wrong with Vanitas’ original plan.”

Terra nodded. “That’s my best guess. He might’ve just wanted to use Ven to survive the X-blade’s destruction.”

That was another odd thing, Aqua thought. She couldn’t imagine Ven joining with Vanitas willingly.

“Either way,” said Terra, “I don’t think his original plan matters much at this point. Considering his predicament, I doubt he’s very picky about which body he walks away in.”

Aqua nodded, but Eraqus folded his arms, looking doubtful. “That would be true, had their union been perfect. But you’re assuming he has nothing to lose.” When the other four looked at him curiously, he rubbed his chin. “I never met Vanitas previously, but I’m aware of what he is. A being of pure darkness should have a very distinct presence.” Terra and Aqua didn’t hide their puzzlement. “Terra -- when Ventus took control, did you sense anything different about him?”

Terra knitted his brows as he thought back. “...No. Now that you mention it, there wasn’t a difference.”

Aqua caught on. “You’re saying Ven and Vanitas should feel different.” She straightened up, eyes widening as she realized: “That’s right -- Ven… Vanitas… the way they are now -- I can’t detect his darkness like before. I couldn’t tell the difference in the Graveyard, either. It’s nowhere near as strong.”

“Mm.” Eraqus nodded. “It’s as though Ventus’ presence is balancing Vanitas’ darkness. Perhaps even limiting it.”

“And that’s why,” said Mickey, “you think Vanitas might want to undo this just as much as Ven does?”

“It’s a possibility,” said Eraqus. “One we must keep in mind if we expect any measure of cooperation from him.”

“Cooperation?” asked Terra and Aqua simultaneously. Eraqus met their surprised expressions evenly.

“Yen Sid and I discussed this matter at great length. I need to question Vanitas further, but so far we suspect that their… condition is similar to what Sora encountered previously. Specifically--” His level gaze settled on Terra. “--it might resemble the state that you and myself were in until recently.”

The group was silent for a few beats.

“...You think Ven’s heart is locked away inside himself,” Terra deduced.

“Yes. Possibly within Vanitas’ heart, but that is why the lack of darkness in his presence bothers me. And given their origins besides, it seems unlikely that Vanitas’ heart has the capacity to absorb Ventus’; it seems more probable that they would join evenly.”

_Correct. I am not Ventus. His heart has become a part of mine now._

Those cold words came sneaking out of Aqua’s memory of their own accord. “Just like before,” she said softly. Four heads turned to look at her. “In our first battle in the Graveyard,” she explained, “Vanitas… he possessed Ven, briefly. He said that their hearts had joined.” Mickey’s solemn face said he remembered it just as well. “It’s… not quite the same as it was then, but you may be right, Master. Their case might be different.”

_\--from Xehanort’s._ That was the unspoken addition, but she wanted to keep the conversation as on-topic as possible. Terra was already stressed over Ven; she didn’t want to risk adding to it by opening old wounds.

Eraqus nodded again. “Either way, the fact of the matter is that the cause lies in Ventus’ heart, to some degree.” He glanced sideways. Aqua and Terra followed his stare and found Riku on the other end of it. “Fortunately, we believe there is a solution.”

* * *

“So let me get this straight. You want to let this kid jump inside our heart, pull us apart, and hope he knows how to put us back together again?”

Ven’s expression and voice were utterly skeptical as Vanitas gave each of the Keyblade wielders a sweeping glance. “Well,” he said as an afterthought, “I know you don’t care what happens to me either way. But Ventus has had _so much_ strain on his heart already.” The flat line of his mouth curled into a cruel smirk. “You sure he could handle anymore?”

In the corner of her eye Aqua saw Terra’s shoulders tense, probably as he withheld a retort. She placed her hand on his back and felt him relax slightly after a couple seconds.

“No,” said Eraqus bluntly, earning several stares and a cocked eyebrow from Vanitas. “Nothing is certain. But if you’re not familiar enough with Ventus to know that he would prefer we take the risk rather than do nothing, you may ask him yourself.”

He and Vanitas regarded one another for a long moment, silent and unblinking, the former standing confident and tall while the latter still sat chained in his seat. Finally, Vanitas gave a quiet scoff and was the first to break eye contact.

“I know that loser better than you people could guess,” he muttered quietly. Aqua frowned. As little as she knew him, he didn’t seem like the type to make needless commentary. Before she could think too hard about it, he went on more audibly, “So what do you want? My permission?”

At that, Eraqus turned to Riku, who stepped forward. “More or less. I was trained to dive into _sleeping_ hearts. If you and Ventus are both awake, it might work a little differently.”

_“Might?”_ Vanitas echoed, clearly unimpressed.

“Depending on how much you resist, yes,” Riku replied coolly, clearly unfazed by the attitude. “Let’s just say I tried something like that recently. It complicates things.”

“Hmph.” Vanitas’ bright eyes returned to Eraqus. “So you want me to open up so you can save Ventus. And then what? You let me go my merry way?” He gave another scoff, this one more forceful and almost a sneer. “I know you’re a self-righteous bunch, but you’re not total idiots. So are your orders to strike me down while he’s still in there, or at least wait until we’re separate again?”

Terra took half a step forward and Aqua had to catch hold of his arm to make him stop. Vanitas shot them both a snide look.

“I know what you are, Vanitas,” Eraqus replied calmly, calling that hard stare back to himself, “just as well as I know _whom_ you are -- or whom you were.” He hesitated, and then this time he looked away first, narrowed eyes locked on the floor and thoughts lost in some painful memory. “Your existence may be unnatural. But it is not in my interest -- or my authority -- to strike down anybody without provocation, directly or otherwise.”

“That’s quite the change of heart, isn’t it?” The tight humor was gone from Vanitas’ expression, replaced with something dark and serious. “I know what you tried to do to Ventus when he found out _his_ existence is ‘unnatural.’ Why would you do anything better for an enemy?”

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but your choices are limited,” Terra butted in. “Either trust us, or stay like you are until we find another way to force you out.”

“Terra.” Eraqus’ remark was gentle but firm; that was all it took to silence him.

“Are they?” Vanitas wondered. “If it’s a toss-up for me either way, maybe I’ll go ahead and take Ventus down with me.”

Nobody responded right away. It did seem like a stalemate; Vanitas, as an enemy, had no reason to trust them, but going by Riku’s word this wasn’t something that could be forced, either. They needed Vanitas’ cooperation -- his permission, as he’d put it -- but Aqua could understand his hesitation. As things stood, he had Ven more or less shielding him; taking that away really would put him at their mercy. She had no doubt that Eraqus was true to his word, that no harm would come to Vanitas if it was agreed -- but she also knew he wouldn’t let Vanitas walk free, either. None of them would.

For a long, silent moment it seemed that they had hit a dead end.

Aqua was the one to break the stillness. She made her way up the short staircase, kneeling on the top step so that she was eye-level with Vanitas. She held his gaze calmly for several seconds as he regarded her suspiciously, the distrust and skepticism looking entirely misplaced on Ven’s face. It hurt to see, just as it hurt to wonder how Ven was faring, but Aqua maintained her composure.

“If you don’t trust Master Eraqus, then trust me,” she offered. “I give you my word, Vanitas: cooperate with us and I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear it.”

Vanitas gave a low snort. “If I bothered trusting anybody, why would it be you?”

“You don’t have to trust me, either,” she said patiently. “But you know what I think? As much as you hate Ven, you know you can trust _him._ You know you can take him at his word. Ask him -- he’ll tell you I’m sincere.”

Again silence fell, but this time it felt charged, uncertain, uneasy. If Vanitas didn’t agree to this, they really had nothing else to offer him. Aqua didn’t move, but stayed firmly on one knee and went on holding his gaze.

Finally, Vanitas’ shoulders twitched with some silent sound. “I guess you’re the best offer I’m going to get. I don’t need Ventus to tell me you’re too purehearted to break a promise.”

“Then…?”

“Whatever. If you think it’ll work, by all means, go for it. I hear diving’s risky business, so it’s not my neck on the line.”

She turned back to Eraqus as she stood, looking between him and Riku for confirmation. They both nodded once, the former slowly and the latter promptly.

“Very well,” Eraqus agreed. “But we’ll need a little more time. It’s imperative to approach the situation prepared, particularly if this is unlike anything Riku has dealt with before. I would like to know more about the previous occurrences myself, as well.”

The delay was a bit of a letdown, but Aqua hid it well. “Of course,” she replied. “If Terra and I can be of any help, let us know.”

As if detecting her disappointment, Riku gave her a reassuring smile. “Thanks. It won’t be much longer.”

Aqua had seen enough in her years to guess that this would be no simple matter, but right then she let the brief moment of relief -- of knowing that they were getting somewhere -- take over.

She smiled at Vanitas -- _past_ Vanitas, to the boy she hoped would hear her.

“Hang on, Ven.”

* * *

“You’re a good liar.” Ven’s flat tone and deadpan expression said it wasn’t a compliment.

Vanitas glanced at him for all of half an instant, chuckled darkly, and then fell back to lie on the ground with his right arm under his head. “Where was the lie?”

Within comfortable speaking distance but far enough to give him some good reaction time if needed, Ven sat with his knees drawn up and right arm linked loosely around them. His left was propped to the side, isolating the gash on his forearm that was now a deep purple around the edges. The bleeding had long since stopped, but there was no way to clean it. The dried blood left it looking unpleasant, to say the least.

That aside, the atmosphere was relaxed. An outside observer might have thought these two were friends casually taking a break.

“You acted like you had no idea what they were talking about,” Ven clarified. “But that’s exactly what you were waiting for them to do, wasn’t it?”

“Still wasn’t a lie.”

“You were dishonest about it.”

“ _That’s_ what you’re gonna criticize?” Vanitas snapped, shooting him a look that was both incredulous and utterly skeptical.

“How did you know?” Ven asked. He was honestly curious, but it didn’t hurt to redirect Vanitas’ frustration before it could start.

“Know what.”

“...Everything,” Ven admitted after a moment. “You knew somebody would have to dive in after us. You knew how to survive the X-blade. You say you know everything about me,” he added, although there was some doubt and sarcasm there. “How long have you been planning this, really?”

Vanitas grunted. “I have a brain, unlike some people. Wasn’t that hard.”

_“Vanitas.”_

There was a short silence as Vanitas appeared to ignore him. Then, “You can sense my emotions, right? How much?”

Ven blinked. “Not a whole lot, I guess. I could tell you were acting before. I can tell you’re annoyed now. Not that that’s anything new,” he muttered, loud enough to be heard.

Vanitas gave a short laugh that, while plenty condescending, didn’t sound insane for once. “Shame,” he remarked, although Ven couldn’t tell if it was directed towards him or just a thought spoken aloud. “You spend enough time around our Master and you start picking up on things,” Vanitas said after a moment. “You knew that, once. You just don’t remember.”

For a second Ven had no idea what he was talking about -- then he realized that Vanitas had answered his previous question. Sort of. “Xehanort?” he asked, puzzled. “What’s he have to do with it?”

“He liked to talk. I listened.” Vanitas shrugged a shoulder. “Now that he’s dead, I probably know more about the X-blade than anybody else.” His tone was matter-of-fact; it didn’t sound like he was bragging, nor did Ven sense anything like pride coming from him.

“That’s how you knew what would happen?”

“I told you before, I guessed,” said Vanitas impatiently. “Maybe he knew, I don’t know. Didn’t bother sharing if he did. All I did know was that people usually wind up dead when they screw with something that powerful. Made sense that if destroying it killed us once, it might happen again.”

Ven thought on that. “Then… joining together again--”

“Another lucky guess. Actually, I’d been intending to make another X-blade if we could; if the other one was destroyed, I thought maybe creating another would bind our hearts to it again. We could survive that way.” It was said so casually that Ven couldn’t help staring -- partly because it was startling to learn that Vanitas had been concealing that ace up his sleeve, but also--

“You thought of all that?”

Vanitas glanced at him again. “What? Doing somebody else’s dirty work means I can’t think for myself?”

“No. It’s just... I didn’t think you cared.”

“About what?”

“Anything,” said Ven. “I thought you were just… in all this for the War.”

“I was. Doesn’t mean I have a death wish.” Sitting up, Vanitas propped his forearm on his knee as he leveled an unreadable look at Ven. “...Do you even know what he wanted?” The question was skeptical, but it seemed earnest, too.

“Xehanort? Well, yeah. He was trying to start another Keyblade War. To get to Kingdom Hearts.”

Vanitas rolled his eyes. “I mean _after_ that, genius. Do you know what he wanted Kingdom Hearts for?”

It was an odd question, if only because the answer seemed obvious. “For power,” Ven replied, although he suddenly didn’t sound so sure.

“Heh.” The chuckle was slightly exasperated. “You really don’t remember anything from back then, do you?”

Ven checked his irritation. “Not really. Nothin’ before you were created,” he said coolly, slipping into his more casual methods of speech. He made no conscious effort to be formal around Vanitas; it was simply a testament to his having relaxed slightly.

“Hmph. Your loss.”

“I’m fine with not remembering,” Ven countered. “It’s not like it’s done you any favors.”

Vanitas bared his teeth in a slow grin. It was hard to tell whether he was actually amused or masking something else. “I’ve died three times and here I am. I’d call that a pretty big favor.” He raised his arm to investigate his own wound, absently scraping away some flecks of dried blood. “But you’re so bull-headed about denying our true nature, I guess you’d close your eyes to everything else, too.”

The urge was there to get defensive, but Ven swallowed it. Instead, he forced his bias aside and seriously considered those words. “...Did… did Xehanort really take me as his student because of that?” he asked hesitantly. “Because of my potential for darkness?”

“Yep,” Vanitas replied flippantly, not raising his eyes. “Why do you think he targeted Terra next? You know,” he mused with a tilt of his head, “I guess you could say it’s your fault he took Terra in the end. Wouldn’t have happened if you’d been a good little boy and done what you were told.”

Ven winced, part of his heart going cold. He figured Vanitas would pick up on that pang of guilt, but he didn’t try to hide it. In a twisted way, it was probably true.

_Don’t. Don’t get mad. Don’t react. It’s what he wants._

“How…” Ven’s voice came out lower than intended. He swallowed and tried again. “How did Xehanort know? How did he… how did he find me, I guess?”

Still preoccupied with his arm, Vanitas took his time in answering. “Because,” he said slowly, distractedly, “there was something very special about you, Ventus. But if you don’t remember, I don’t see why I need to tell you.”

That was one of the few times, Ven noticed, that Vanitas had referred to his past self as _you_ rather than _us_ , at least without throwing in an insult. Maybe it was nothing, but it was a notable coincidence all the same.

“...Right.” Ven almost left it at that -- but then after a moment he added casually, though halfheartedly, “Thanks.”

Vanitas’ head snapped in his direction. Ven pretended not to notice. Again, there was a glimpse of confusion and skepticism just under the surface of Vanitas’ hard stare, but he smoothed it over in record time, as usual.

“You’re really forcing that act, aren’t you?”

“Thankin’ somebody isn’t acting.”

“It is when you don’t mean it.”

“Now _you’re_ criticizing about honesty?”

“Believe it or not, I’m the honest type,” Vanitas replied indifferently. “I’ve yanked your chain a few times, but have I ever lied to you?”

Now that Ven thought about it, he realized that was true. “See?” Vanitas pushed. “And here you thought I was all bad.”

“That’s the only good thing so far,” Ven muttered.

“Angry _and_ judgmental. Not quite the beacon of light you thought you were, are you?” Leaning back on his good arm, Vanitas watched him thoughtfully. “Funny how you’re _more_ aggressive since we split. Where was all that when the Master needed it?”

“Why do you call him that?” Ven asked suddenly. Those remarks had hardened his expression, but there was sincerity in his tone.

“What? Master?”

Ven nodded. Vanitas cocked an eyebrow. “That’s what he was. But I could ask you the same thing, considering what your _Master_ tried to do to you.”

“That’s not the same,” Ven said quickly, a little heatedly.

“Isn’t it? Well, no, you’re right: mine never tried to kill me.”

_Don’t. Don’t._

“At least mine was honest,” Vanitas added. “He didn’t hide what I was or what he wanted from me. From day one, I knew my purpose. You?” He scoffed, shaking his head once. “Well. I don’t have to remind you of the thirteen-year rut you were in.”

“That wasn’t my Master’s fault! And at least--” Ven bit his words back, letting his blood cool for a couple seconds. It helped to think back to his last conversation with Eraqus -- they’d only had a few moments alone together before Ven and the others had left for the battle, but that was long enough. Enough for an apology that Ven had never asked for or even expected; enough for Eraqus to reassure him that their relationship had always been built on a bond, not obligation.

“...You said it yourself,” Ven replied more calmly: “Xehanort wanted you for a purpose. Even though Master Eraqus knew what I was all along… that had nothing to do with it. He didn’t have to be as kind to me as he’s been.” He didn’t have to let Ven join him for morning tea in his study. He didn’t have to visit several times a day when Ven was sick in bed for a week. He didn’t even have to train Ven, least of all one-on-one as he had done many times, but he had. _Maybe he didn’t trust me to go off on my own, but now, looking back… I know he was right. Besides, he did trust me -- he knew what I was and he still let me become friends with Terra and Aqua. He trusted me enough to help me get my Keyblade back._

“They were both our teachers,” he told Vanitas resolutely, “but Master Eraqus -- he earned respect from me. He didn’t force it out of me--”

_“Force?”_ Vanitas’ bark was at least half condescending laughter. “What, you think I’ve been on some kind of leash all these years? You think he threatened to dispose of me if I didn’t obey?”

Ven said nothing. Again Vanitas laughed, but there was an agitated, impatient sound to it. “Man, just when I start to think you couldn’t get any stupider…” He exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a moment as he tilted his head back. “You wanna know how it went down? It’s not a sweet little soapbox like yours, but I like proving you wrong.” Despite that, he seemed to take his time in choosing his words -- or maybe he was thinking through his memories first. Either way, there was a significant pause before he looked sidelong at Ven again.

“We actually weren’t that different at the start,” he said. “You and me. We were both blank slates, both shaped by what was in our hearts -- in your case, our dying light. In mine, well.” He didn’t expand on it, but he didn’t have to. “You say your Master showed you kindness. I say it was pity. My Master didn’t pity me, but I guess what he did was kindness. The closest thing to kindness you could give somebody like me, anyway.” His tone was apathetic and Ven couldn’t sense anything from him: no sadness, no self-pity, no self-hate, no… anything. Vanitas was reciting his life as though he was detached from it. “There’s something about darkness, Ventus. Something that always wants and can’t have enough -- it keeps pushing for more and more.”

“More what?”

Vanitas snorted softly, but ignored the interruption. “While you were trying to rediscover your purpose in life, I knew mine. When you were learning how to _talk_ properly again, I had desires and goals -- but no way to fulfill them.” He shrugged again. “Master Xehanort knew that. He used it and used me; I knew it then, but why should I care? We both got something out of it.”

Ven shifted in his seat. The way Vanitas spoke and described himself, he sounded oddly… normal, almost, to a point. He hadn’t just been a mindless machine from the first day; he’d had a will, as twisted and mostly submissive as it was. “Why? What did you want?”

“Think. You’ve felt it before.” 

Ven frowned. When had he…?

Oh.

Back when this whole mess began, when he had been allowed a glimpse inside Vanitas’ heart -- that was it. “Power,” Ven recalled slowly, quietly. “Destruction.”

“That’s pretty tongue-in-cheek, but it’s probably the best you could understand.”

“So, what? You stayed with him to get stronger? To help him destroy everything?”

“I could have left anytime,” said Vanitas indifferently, again not answering the question directly. “I did, kind of. I had free reign to go just about anywhere, unlike you. There was only one thing he wouldn’t give me, but I survived, obviously.”

As curious as Ven was about what that “one thing” might have been, he figured Vanitas would have said it directly if he cared to share. Instead, Ven thought over all that had been said.

“...So, wait -- if you put it that way... you make it sound like your darkness is really the reason for everything. If it shaped who you are--”

Vanitas gave a half laugh, half snarl. “ _Don’t._ Don’t try to make me into some victimized sob story. Darkness might have influenced me, but it didn’t make me who I am. I chose this path just as freely as you chose yours.”

That, too, made a certain amount of sense. Ven wouldn’t attribute his light to all of his choices, necessarily; if that was true, he wouldn’t have made some of the mistakes that he had. And if Vanitas was utterly ruled by his darkness… would he even be able to talk as calmly as this? Would he have been able to keep himself from acting on his hatred and killing Ven when he was at his mercy (several times) previously?

With that in mind, Ven didn’t know what to think: whether he had lost even more respect for Vanitas (if possible) or he was slightly relieved, in a way, to know that Vanitas wasn’t a complete byproduct of his negativity. Vanitas was his own person with his own desires; that much had nothing to do with what Ven had once been capable of, did it?

Still… he had trouble believing that last bit: _I chose this path just as freely as you chose yours._ Had he really? Had Xehanort truly had no influence on him? That was hard to imagine.

“...You respected him, didn’t you?” Ven realized. “Xehanort.”

“I respect power,” Vanitas corrected. “He had more of it than most wielders combined. So yeah, I did.” When Ven didn’t respond right away, Vanitas made a guttural sound in his throat. “I didn’t _love_ him, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he clarified with distaste. “That’s not something I can do, if you couldn’t guess.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” It was an honest question.

Vanitas gave a low snort. “Does it matter?”

“I mean--” Ven hesitated. No, it really didn’t matter, he supposed, but… “Do you even know what love is?”

At that, Vanitas looked up -- not in a glance this time, but a blank stare that lingered for about ten seconds before he spoke again. “...Thanks to you, yeah.” It wasn’t as sarcastic as it could have been, but there was obvious displeasure in the tone. It wasn’t something he appreciated. “How do you think we knew to use Terra against you before?”

Ven considered that for a few seconds. “...Why Terra, though?” he wondered. Why had Vanitas zeroed in on him specifically?

Perching his cheek on his fist, Vanitas regarded him with bored disinterest. “Because you loved him first,” he replied, sounding as though he were reciting something elementary. “The Master was short on time, so he used what he could get his hands on. Just so happened he was after Terra, anyway, so it all worked out.”

It was irritating to hear all that said so casually, so utterly indifferently, but Ven didn’t lash out. Having Vanitas this talkative was rare, and it beat other aggressive alternatives.

“So... you’ve always been able to read my feelings like this,” he deduced slowly. That, too, made sense in hindsight. It was a little startling and pretty creepy, but more than that Ven found himself curious as to what effect that had (or didn’t have) on Vanitas. He claimed he’d chosen his path of his own free will, and yet… why would he willingly choose something so dark if he knew there was something else? Something better than destruction and the aggressive pursuit of strength?

“Always,” Vanitas confirmed flatly. “And since we’re playing Twenty Questions, I’ll ask you the same thing: why Terra?”

“Huh?”

“Terra,” Vanitas repeated. “You had a Master who would’ve given you just about anything if you’d done like he asked. But you rejected him. Then this guy comes along, gives you a little advice and a crappy toy, and you fawn all over him. Why?”

Ven would have expected more mockery in those words, but to his surprise Vanitas seemed genuinely curious. He thought for a few seconds, although the answer was pretty obvious as far as he was concerned. “You said it yourself, I’ve forgotten just about everything from back then. I don’t really remember how close I was to Xehanort, but… what he wanted me to do…”

Give in to the dark side of himself, use it to produce a terrible weapon of legend… No amount of respect for his teacher could have convinced Ven that it was the right thing to do.

Wincing at the memory, he looked at Vanitas -- and while Ven didn’t expect him to understand, he suddenly wanted to try. “I just _couldn’t_. You said he would’ve given me anything -- but I already had everything I wanted.” Vanitas was silent, but Ven could read his confusion. “I had a place to belong. Somebody to look after me,” he clarified. “Even if I was different back then… I think those’re things everybody wants, deep down. If I had that, I think I was happy where I was. That’s why Terra and Aqua and Master Eraqus mean so much to me -- they accept me for who I am.”

Vanitas still said nothing. His gaze was as intense as ever, but it looked… almost softer, somehow. Not hostile, anyway. He made a short hissing sound as he looked away. “Everybody, huh. Is that what you think _I_ really want deep down?”

Good question, Ven thought. Vanitas wasn’t like “everybody,” after all. There was a depth of fierce independence and all-encompassing hatred inside him that nobody of a normal nature could have possibly possessed, surely.

But if Vanitas’ heart was what made him “not normal,” then couldn’t the same be said of Ven? Wasn’t it possible that, like he’d said, Vanitas was influencing his own destiny rather than being puppeted along by the nature of his heart? If so… maybe that hatred was a conscious effort, not a permanent characteristic.

Ven thought about that for a long moment. “...What’re you gonna do after this?” he asked.

“What?”

“After we’re separated. If you go free and you could do anything you want -- where would you go?”

Vanitas’ eyes narrowed, but it was merely his attempt to disguise a look of surprise. “That’s a pretty big ‘if’ right now, isn’t it?”

“Seriously,” Ven urged. “I’m not askin’ so I can follow you or anything. I just wanna know.”

Vanitas appeared to consider that, his face neutral. Ven watched him and waited. “...As long as it’s away from you people, I’m not picky,” said Vanitas nonchalantly at length. “Maybe I’ll hook up with somebody else to destroy the World.”

Ven glowered slightly, reflexively, although he could tell Vanitas had said it with the intention of upsetting him. “Is that really what you want?” he challenged.

Vanitas shrugged. “Why not? We came so close before. Third time’s the charm.”

“No, I mean -- do you really want that, or is it just because you don’t know any different?”

Slowly, almost threateningly, Vanitas turned to lock his hard stare on him again. Ven didn’t so much as blink. Multiple times in the past, Vanitas had accused him of petty dependence, of weak emotion based on ignorance -- in hindsight, maybe there was a deeper reason for that than just contempt. “You just told me that you’ve always known your purpose in life, right? When you put it that way… even if you did choose your path, it sounds like you just went along with everything without even trying to change it. You’ve never really thought for yourself. Not where it mattered, anyway.”

There was a long, still, tense moment of complete silence as they regarded one another. Vanitas was doing very well at hiding -- inside and out -- whatever he was feeling; he gave off no emotion that Ven could detect, and he was so utterly motionless that it bordered on unsettling.

And then he laughed, and it was right back to sounding something considerably less than sane. The grin that went with it was more of a harsh baring of teeth than an expression of real amusement, his canine catching and biting his lip hard enough for Ven to feel it.

“Let me guess, this is your way of saying that I really _am_ like everybody else?” he sneered. “Underneath all this darkness and hate, I just want a place to call home and a circle of friends I can depend on?” He gave a low, forceful snort. “That’s pretty sneaky, coming from you -- but if you wanted to play mind games, you should’ve stuck around our Master longer.” Climbing to his feet, he dropped his bitter humor and shot over his shoulder, “You’re so transparent, it’s disgusting.”

As if to reinforce that, Ven did feel a sudden, hot spike of irritation. Silently, he watched as Vanitas started to retreat in the other direction.

That implication hadn’t been his _intention,_ per se, but his mind had definitely started to wander in that direction. As much as he wanted to believe in the best of people, he couldn’t bring himself to think that Vanitas was anywhere near something like redeemable. He seemed too stubbornly stuck in the rut of his so-called purpose, which meant he probably would end up causing more trouble down the line.

_You just went along with everything without even trying to change it. You’ve never really thought for yourself._ Vanitas’ reaction had confirmed the truth of that, as far as Ven was concerned.

He didn’t expect to change _Vanitas_ , no, but if this one-way track to destruction was the only thing he had ever known, it was worth trying to show him there was more to life, wasn’t it? Maybe not something as drastic as friendship -- Ven honestly wasn’t sure he could put aside his own bias long enough to attempt that -- but even just some small gesture, some indication of there being something else to live for...

Unfortunately, Vanitas seemed to be the type who believed actions more than words, and there wasn’t much Ven could--

Or was there?

“Where d’you think you’re going?” Ven asked wearily, also standing.

Vanitas raised both hands in a sarcastic shrug without turning around. For a moment there was only the low echo of his retreating footsteps.

And then, much louder and clearer, the high note of Ven’s Keyblade materializing.

Vanitas stopped dead, although he still didn’t look back. His shoulders remained relaxed. “Seriously?” He chuckled. “Is your memory really that bad or are you some kind of glutton for punishment?” He swiveled back on a heel, regarding Ven with a subtle smile. It was probably meant to be a cocky smirk, but Ven thought there was something… inviting in the look. Almost eager, as though Vanitas was just waiting for an excuse to let loose against him.

Ven kept his weapon at his side, his grip tight but his stance just as relaxed as his counterpart’s. “You ever spar?” he asked casually.

Vanitas’ arrogance dropped like a rock. He blinked, stared, and then turned around completely with a suspicious look. “What?”

Ven cocked an eyebrow. “What’re you, deaf?” he asked, shooting that previous retort right back to the source. “Have you ever sparred?” he repeated.

“Obviously,” said Vanitas tightly. He glanced over Lost Memory from grip to tip, and then back at Ven. “What do you care?”

It was Ven’s turn to shrug, this time as he spun his Keyblade in his fingers with ease. “You can go sit in a corner if you really want to. But if we’ve got a few more hours, we could always do something useful while we wait.”

Vanitas continued to stare at him as though he were talking in a different language. Ven waited.

With a grunt Vanitas broke his uncertain stare, and for a second Ven took it as rejection -- but one swift motion later Vanitas had summoned his own Keyblade and already shifted to hold it overhand. It was faint, but he gave off what felt like a surge of adrenaline.

He was actually excited, Ven realized. Or close to it.

Despite that, Vanitas’ tone was as level and nonchalant as ever. “Fine. But I never go easy.”

Ven hadn’t expected him to. He had probably just signed up for more punishment than he realized, but that was all right. It couldn’t shake that small glimmer of satisfaction at having found somewhere to start his effort, useless though it might well turn out to be.

_Everything begins with small steps,_ he reminded himself.

“Fine by me.”


	6. Vulnerability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which just about everyone plots in secret.

“Aqua.”

She stopped at the sound of her name and turned, promptly standing to attention. “Yes, Master?”

Eraqus looked as grim as he had for the past couple hours. After questioning Vanitas on his and Ven’s current state -- and more often than not receiving vague or outright obstinate answers -- they knew a little more about what they were dealing with, but the atmosphere still hung heavy with uncertainty.

The two of them now stood in the west hall of the castle, alone and well beyond earshot of anybody still inside.

“I need to speak with you about our plans,” he told her. Aqua frowned slightly, puzzled. He had dismissed Riku earlier with the order to get some rest, saying they would all come together in the evening and talk over the final details. What couldn’t wait until then?

“Of course. What about them?”

“You know retrieving Ventus is our top priority. That hasn’t changed, of course. But we can’t lose sight of the secondary problem in the meantime.”

Aqua caught on. “Vanitas.”

Eraqus nodded. “To be honest, I don’t know what to make of his intentions. He may resist Riku’s efforts, in which case there will be no other choice but to destroy him. But if he doesn’t, we face the dilemma of what to do with him.”

It was definitely a problem, but not one Aqua could immediately pinpoint a solution for. If he did cooperate, it wouldn’t be right to kill him, but letting him walk free was out of the question. Wasn’t it? “With Xehanort gone,” she said slowly, “do you think Vanitas will remain a threat on his own?”

“It’s difficult to say. Being what he is, I want to believe that he’ll be drawn to some malicious acts sooner or later. However--” Eraqus glanced aside. “--that is merely conjecture on my part. I was hoping Ventus or perhaps even you would have an idea of what to expect.”

Aqua was silent, thinking over all she knew of Vanitas. He was a smug, self-centered force of personified aggression, she would say, ruthlessly efficient and mentally unstable. Was he evil? Cruel? Or just utterly apathetic to the immorality of the orders he had followed? That, she couldn’t say for sure. The only thing she _could_ attest to was his hatred for Ven, a feeling so hostile and dark that, in the couple times she’d seen them opposite one another in the last few months, she could sense it like one sensed the direction of the sun with eyes closed.

It was dangerous -- _he_ was dangerous -- and that was why she was so worried for Ven.

“...I don’t know,” she admitted, apologetically, at length. “But if letting him go put anybody in danger, I think it would be Ven. He’s probably the best one to ask now.”

“Yes,” Eraqus agreed, “but given their situation we may not have the time to consult him before we act.”

Aqua crossed her arms thoughtfully. “We can’t actually restrain Vanitas, can we? As long as he has his Keyblade, no place can hold him.” There was always the option of locking the Lanes around whatever world he was in, but that would mean essentially allowing him to run loose on some unsuspecting populace. The Keyblade Graveyard was no more, either -- and even if it was, she didn’t like the idea of leaving even Vanitas stranded alone in a desert. Nor was binding him in chains for the rest of his life a very humane approach.

“Actually…” Eraqus hesitated, but then he met her eyes in a look that held some weight. “There may be a way to take his Keyblade from him.”

Aqua’s surprise was so great that she blurted, “What?”

“Yes. I haven’t shared that secret with you yet, but now’s as good a time as any. With some exceptions, it’s quite possible for a Master to revoke his student’s access to a Keyblade -- he can seal it, in a sense, in the same way that he gave the gift to begin with.”

That was news to Aqua. She let that sink in for a moment, only to sag slightly when she realized: “Oh. But -- Xehanort was his Master. Without him…”

“Xehanort was his Master,” Eraqus agreed, “but not necessarily the one who gave him his Keyblade.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Vanitas was created, not born. It’s highly likely that, in coming from Ventus, he inherited the ability instantaneously. In fact, I am almost certain of it,” he added, “given that they are two halves of the same whole.”

“Which would mean… Ven could do it?” Aqua stared, eyes wide. “Ven could seal his Keyblade?”

“Potentially, yes. But as I said, there are exceptions. For one, if a wielder has been named Master, he has earned his ownership. His Keyblade is his own.”

Aqua considered that. Vanitas a Master… He was certainly the same level as one. “In name only?” she asked.

“Yes. If Vanitas is as formidable as you say, he may well be a Master in terms of ability, but only if he was _named_ Master will he and his Keyblade be inseparable.” Quietly, Eraqus sighed. “I wouldn’t think Xehanort would have bothered with such formalities… but considering his gift for foresight, he may well have dubbed Vanitas a Master to be safe.”

“There’s no way to tell for sure?” she wondered.

“Not without asking him.”

Aqua hummed, a disappointed but thoughtful sound.

“Regardless,” Eraqus went on, “I believe that is the best plan of action. If we remove his Keyblade, we remove him as a threat for the most part. That’s where you come in, Aqua.”

“Me?”

“Even if everything goes according to plan, we must assume the worst-case scenario and act quickly. Once the two of them have been separated, you and Terra will help Ventus while the others and myself guard Vanitas. You’ll need to explain to Ventus everything that I’m about to tell you, as accurately as possible. If he’s too weak to perform the sealing, tend to him with healing magic and assist him.”

It seemed to make better sense if Eraqus was the one explaining it, but then she considered that somebody might have to restrain Vanitas quickly. Of all the wielders here, Eraqus appeared to be the best equipped for that task.

She nodded. “Yes, Master. Please, tell me what he needs to do.”

* * *

It was a strange thing to fight without limits.

They still had no magic, they still couldn’t hurt one another without hurting themselves, but in the long run those were minor setbacks. Compared to the almost elated feeling of moving without the buildup of fatigue, having limited abilities was a small sacrifice to make.

They couldn’t hurt one another without hurting themselves, but they played it close regardless. Ven’s attacks were as quick as ever, trusting Vanitas’ reflexes to be up to the challenge (they always were), although he did check his strength at the end of his blows.

Vanitas, as he had warned, did him no such courtesy in return. His attacks were brutal, every movement as sharp and calculated as though his life depended on it. He didn’t hesitate to take an opening when he saw one (a quick slash cost them both a bloody shoulder) and what he now lacked in spells he made up for in a surprising display of physical expertise (he managed to kick Ven’s legs out from under him twice). Even without his usual elemental attacks on hand, he was an efficient swordsman who had very obviously been trained from the ground up.

How long they fought was hard to guess. Without exhaustion to burden them, they kept going, and their exchange became _more_ frenetic the longer they went on. After a while it almost became a game of memory, predicting one another’s moves an instant, a heartbeat, a full second faster than the last time until they were more motion than collisions, mostly synchronized swings and dodges while their Keyblades only rarely met.

It reached the point where Ven actually found his mind wandering. Not in boredom, but because the ferocious haste of their back-and-forthing brought their last fight into question. In particular, he kept thinking back to his own actions, kept replaying the very end of their scuffle over and over.

Ven knew what anger was. He had a bad temper and became defensive way too easily, he was aware, but his experience with the emotion went beyond simple irritation. He also knew pure, unbridled fury personally, although rarely. He knew that blind rage was what possessed him when his friends’ lives were in danger; it was what had helped him strike Vanitas down so many years ago to protect Aqua.

And yet… whenever Ven felt like that, the hatred had always been productive. It fueled action, not only feelings. Just like then: he had been angry at Vanitas for hurting her, but all of that anger had served as adrenaline, blinding him to anything besides the source of Aqua’s hurt. He was angry _because_ of Aqua more than he was _at_ Vanitas.

But this last time had been different.

This time, something deep inside Ven had cracked. Between Vanitas tormenting him with that injury, putting down his friends, making him question himself, and practically smothering him with the overwhelming presence of his darkness, Ven’s anger crossed the line into rage. He’d acted without hardly thinking, resorting to a double-injury to gain the upperhand, and that was where things became uncomfortable.

\--He quickly ducked under a swing, throwing out a counter-strike that managed to clip Vanitas in the side. Pain flared over his hip, but by this point even Ven was moving on automated efficiency. Neither one of them slowed.--

Thinking back now, Ven couldn’t figure out where that second impulse had come from. The instant he’d had Vanitas on his back and vulnerable, something inside screamed at him to repay insult for insult, humiliation for humiliation, to avenge his pride.

And some part of Ven had responded. He wasn’t sure what he would have done with his Keyblade, but he’d stopped himself at the last second and -- barely -- redirected it.

He still wasn’t sure what that “part” from before was. It had been a feeling, but a sharp, intense one like he’d never felt before -- or had he? Now that he thought about it, it did seem vaguely familiar, but only passingly so. That was even more confusing. Surely he would remember having felt something so bitter and unpleasant, something that contradicted everything he knew was right. Something that went against not only his teachings, but his very core. Something…

Something dark.

The realization made him freeze up for half a second. It wasn’t long, but it was enough: Vanitas delivered a hard kick to his chest, knocking him onto his back with a winded grunt. His Keyblade clattered from his fingers and bounced away, just beyond reach.

Ven grimaced as he slowly sat up. Vanitas stood over him, looking slightly irritated as his emotions gave a glimpse of curiosity; he’d noticed Ven’s hesitation. Ven returned the stare with one of uneasy comprehension.

Something dark.

Vanitas.

 _Vanitas_ was where he had felt it. The negativity, the hatred, the loathing and arrogance… it was the same. The same as the violent inclination that had urged him to _hurt_ Vanitas unnecessarily for that split-second.

Ven felt his heart skip a nervous, uncertain beat. It hadn’t been the same as simply picking up on Vanitas’ emotions, either -- those emotions had been _his own_ , pure and nearly all-consuming. But why? Why would he suddenly have so much negativity out of nowhere?

“What is it?” Vanitas snapped.

Breaking eye contact, Ven shook his head. “Nothing,” he said quietly.

_‘You’re rubbing off on me.’_

Maybe those words were truer than he’d realized.

Vanitas went on watching him, clearly unconvinced, but finally just grunted and turned aside. He bent over to retrieve Ven’s Keyblade, glancing along the shaft in a blend of skepticism and distaste. He did so just long enough that Ven began to feel uneasy for a couple reasons, but at last Vanitas lost interest and lowered it. The white steel looked out of place in his grip alongside all his red and black.

“What, are we already done being open with each other?” He tossed the Keyblade at Ven’s middle, flat-side first but still hard enough to hurt. “Good.”

Ven climbed to his feet as he took up his weapon again. A moment of uncertainty passed, but then he shifted to resume his battle stance. Vanitas looked and felt mildly surprised. “Well, check _you_ out. You’re not as soft as you used to be.” He, too, assumed his usual position, the chains on his Keyblade rattling in the brief silence. “I wonder how much more of that I can beat out of you?”

Ven moved. Vanitas responded just as quickly and they clashed again.

As they went, none of Ven’s movements, once again swift and focused, gave away the weight of his thoughts. He hoped his attention was too locked in on the fight for Vanitas to pick up on what he was thinking, but there was one faint, underlying feeling that he couldn’t shake.

For the first time since this whole situation started, Ven was afraid. Not for his life, but what further exposure to Vanitas might do to him -- what it might have _already_ done.

And for the first time that he could ever recall, he was glad it wasn’t his friends jumping in to save him this time. If Vanitas did see the opportunity and use them against him, or him against Terra, as he’d threatened, and Ven lost control of his temper again--

\--but no, it would be fine. It was Riku coming to help. Ven really didn’t know him that well, but Sora did -- and Sora trusted him, implicitly and entirely, Ven could tell. Even now, with his mind and heart blurring into Vanitas’, he could still recall the bits and pieces of emotions that Sora had given him over the years.

Riku would be all right. Ven would be all right. There was no need for Terra and Aqua to get involved anymore than they had already.

* * *

“Something wrong?”

Riku started slightly as he broke from his thoughts, quickly turning to find Terra standing a couple yards over. He immediately felt doubly sheepish: for being so jumpy and for not detecting a second presence. Then again, considering Terra’s skill level, maybe that wasn’t surprising.

“No,” said Riku after an awkward moment. “I was just thinking, sorry.” Standing a little straighter to attention, he added, “Did you need me for something?”

Terra smiled, but it almost bordered a smirk, as though he’d caught some inside joke. “No, it’s all right. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t get lost.”

“Heh.” Riku returned the almost-smirk as he glanced at their surroundings. He’d been given permission to look around the world beyond the castle, and since the others were questioning Vanitas further, Riku took the opportunity to wander alone with his thoughts for a while. He’d ended up on a plateau high and far enough to give a full view of the castle in the distance, and it was here that he’d settled against a stone bench to go over what he was about to do. “It’s nice up here,” he observed. “Peaceful. I’ve been to a couple worlds with mountains, but nothing like this.”

“How is it?” When Riku glanced at him uncertainly, Terra clarified, “Seeing other worlds besides your own, I mean. Is it what you expected?”

Considering that, Riku didn’t respond right away. “...You know,” he mused, “ever since I started, I haven’t really slowed down to think about it much. It was exciting at first -- still is,” he added, “but there’s always something more important to focus on. You could say it’s been more business than pleasure.” That was putting it lightly, but there was no need to dive into the matter of his past. He did that enough on his own.

“I know the feeling.” Terra approached, taking the space on Riku’s left to join him in leaning against the bench’s back. Side-by-side like this, it was clear that Terra had a couple inches on him in height. For a few moments they were silent, staring out at the mountain range in private thought.

The longer it went on, the more awkward Riku started to feel. He wasn’t a shy individual at all, but considering the history that existed between the two of them despite that they barely knew one another, as well as Terra’s reputation as a Master-level wielder and essentially a warrior of legend… It felt like there was some better measure of respect that Riku should have been paying him, but he wasn’t sure what that was.

“Did Vanitas say anything else?” he tried finally. Terra’s poise didn’t budge, but Riku had the feeling that the atmosphere around him was a little more tense than it had been a second ago.

“Nothing too useful,” said Terra. “Although I can’t tell if he’s actually as clueless as he says, or he’s doing this on purpose.”

“Would he be that desperate?”

“He’s cornered. There’s no telling what he’ll do.”

Riku couldn’t argue that. He fell silent again, thinking over what he knew of Vanitas. Very little, he realized -- only that he had been one of Xehanort’s Seekers, was proficient in wielding darkness, and had some close tie to Ventus. Even Vanitas’ face was a mystery; he’d worn his hood up every time Riku had seen him, and his last battle against Ventus had been at a distance. Now he wore a face that wasn’t his own.

“What can you tell me about him?” Riku asked. “Just so I’m prepared.”

“Not much,” Terra admitted. “But he hasn’t just given in to darkness. He _is_ darkness. Even if he’s cooperating, don’t trust him. He’ll want something out of this.”

Riku nodded lightly. Figured. “You think there’ll be a fight involved,” he deduced.

“If it’s anything like when you dived into us, then yeah. Even if it’s not, I just can’t see Vanitas going peacefully.”

That wasn’t something Riku cared to dwell on. He and Sora had indeed been required to heart-dive again to retrieve Terra and the others, whose hearts were trapped by some force or another at the time. While each case had been different, the running similarity was that there had always been a necessary battle or two, usually taking the form of some negative emotions in the host’s memory. Even if Vanitas himself didn’t challenge him, any number of surprises could still be waiting.

“Riku,” said Terra suddenly, “you can take somebody with you when you dive, right?”

Riku looked up at him. Terra met his gaze evenly, and it was obvious what he was thinking. “Yeah. It doesn’t matter if the other person’s done it before or not. As long as it’s a wielder, I should be able to pull them along.”

“Then I’ll go with you. It’s... not that I don’t trust you,” he added slowly, his stare faltering, “but I have a personal stake in this.”

“I know the feeling,” Riku echoed. He smirked slightly as Terra looked at him again. “I don’t mind going alone, but if you want to come, it’s not my place to tell you otherwise. He’s your friend.” That simple fact was one that Riku respected wholeheartedly.

Terra returned the look with a smile, nodding. “Thanks. It’s always better to have backup.”

“My one warning is that it’s always unpredictable,” Riku advised more seriously. “If you come with me, I can’t guarantee we’ll be able to stick together. I can’t say for sure what we’ll run into, either.” That was, in truth, part of why Riku hadn’t let Sora tag along on this. There had been no time to really look into it so far, but Sora’s tie with Ventus was a strange one, a connection that seemed to run deeper than a first glance suggested. It hadn’t gone over Riku’s head that Ventus wore the same armor as the creature he’d battled in Sora’s heart once, nor that the shining light of his heart was very similar to Sora’s, albeit in greater abundance. Their lights even smelled similar, Riku had noticed, more similar to one another’s than to Roxas’, even.

Given the strange nature of their connection, Riku’s protective instinct had kicked in stronger than usual. He didn’t want to risk any additional surprises, especially when Vanitas was such a wildcard. It had taken a _lot_ of convincing on Riku’s part to get his best friend to pass on this, and only then because Riku had guessed ahead of time that either Terra or Aqua would want to come instead. Sora had other matters to deal with besides, although he had solemnly sworn to show up once he was finished to at least cheer them on.

“That’s fine.” Terra’s response wasn’t rushed. It was clear he had considered the warning seriously, though briefly, and it didn’t matter. His mind was made up.

“What about Master Aqua?” Riku wondered. “She won’t mind you going instead?”

Terra hesitated. “...One of us should go,” he replied. “I’ll talk with her, but I think it’d be better to have her on this side.”

Having no reason to disagree, Riku took that to mean it would indeed be Terra coming along. “All right. I’ll prepare for a two-man show.”

“Good.” Straightening up, Terra turned back towards the mountain path that had led them up here. “I’ll let you rest up. And I mean that,” he added with a pointed glance, looking serious. “Get some rest, okay? Don’t push yourself.”

He probably hadn’t intended it, but it was a very parent-like thing to say, Riku thought. No -- it was a very _leader_ thing to say. As worried as Terra must have been, he was under no obligation to break from his one-track mind and focus on anybody other than Ventus. But he had, and there was too much simple honesty in his remark to mistake it for anything other than genuine concern. And not just for the boy sleeping back in the castle.

Riku didn’t know him very well, but he would have bet anything right then that Terra was the type to tirelessly look after any and every person in his charge -- which, considering where they were and what was taking place, Riku supposed he kind of was. He wasn’t too proud to admit that.

“I won’t,” he promised.

With an approving nod, Terra went on his way. After a moment Riku slid down to sit on the grass, the warm bench at his back. If they had until sundown, he might as well use most of that time to catch up on sleep. He definitely needed it.

* * *

Truthfully, Vanitas didn’t like to lie.

He’d never done so before. Never had a reason to. Brutal honesty always served him better than deceit, and lying seemed to require a certain kind of creativity and, to a degree, an input of (fake) emotion that he didn’t possess.

His little act with Eraqus and the others had been a last-minute, on-the-fly impulse, and the whole time he’d been seriously doubting that they would buy it. Either he had a natural talent for dishonesty, or the entire group was so pure-hearted that even their biased suspicions couldn’t sharpen their common sense.

Whatever. Either way, things were progressing roughly in the right direction. _A_ direction, anyway, which was better than nothing.

He’d predicted that they might resort to another heart-dive -- it only made sense, given that was how Sora had helped retrieve Ventus and the others from their states of sleep -- so while it wasn’t Vanitas’ first preference, he still had an idea of what needed to be done.

He wasn’t actually afraid of Eraqus ordering his execution. Vanitas had forced that no-harm deal out of them just to draw their attention away from what should have been the obvious: he didn’t intend to rot away in some dungeon. Whether he kept Ventus’ body or regained his own was irrelevant at this point; his _freedom_ was priority, and he was ready to seize that by whatever means necessary.

Considering the hand he’d been dealt, only one option was now coming to mind: lure Riku in and kill him before he could pull Ventus’ heart free. Vanitas would wake up, pretend to be Ventus, toss out some story about how he couldn’t save Riku, and then bolt the second Aqua and the others let their guards down.

Of course, the biggest issue in all that would be playing the part. He knew Ventus well enough to have an idea of what emotions to mimic, but actually putting them into play would be difficult. How, after all, did one replicate emotions he’d never directly felt before?

Well. He’d figure it out along the way. It was a messy plan, unfortunately so after all the scheming he’d done recently, but it was the best he could manage on such short notice.

He glanced sideways. Ventus was again stretched out on the ground, having rolled the other way to put his back to him. Despite all the stabs at his naivete, Vanitas was surprised that Ventus actually trusted him enough to sleep. As for why he was even sleeping in the first place was a mystery, because Vanitas didn’t feel the need for rest in this place, even after they’d overdone themselves while sparring. They bore a few identical bruises and cuts as a result; he had meant it when he said he wouldn’t go easy.

It was probably more accurate to say he didn’t know _how_ to hold back. He’d never had a reason to.

He watched the subtle rise and fall of Ventus’ chest, his mind working again. He’d noticed that the injuries received here inside their mind didn’t transpose to their outside body. If that was the case…

Slowly, quietly, Vanitas stood. He approached and stepped over Ventus’ still form, giving him every opportunity to detect his presence, but the other boy didn’t stir in the slightest. Vanitas crouched down beside him, perching an arm on his knee as he looked for a hint of an alarmed reaction. Nothing.

It would be easy, so to speak. Maybe their physical link wasn’t a roadblock as much as a deterrent -- difficult, but not impossible. Maybe Vanitas could kill him quickly, or at least deal a lethal blow, and then immediately resume outside control and hope he was unaffected.

...Or maybe their bond was a result of the state of their joined heart. Maybe it meant that killing one half would kill the whole thing. Then again, they had both survived as half a heart before now -- well, Vanitas had, anyway. Ventus had needed a crutch from Sora, but even he didn’t die immediately after their split.

 _The Master would’ve known._ Vanitas frowned. It was a pointless sentiment and he wasn’t sure why he’d bothered to think it. There was no time for what-could-have-beens.

His hand twitched. Slowly, he uncurled his fist and reached forward, but his fingers stopped a couple inches short of Ventus’ throat.

 _So easy._ What if killing Ventus was the solution all around -- what if dousing his stupid light would restore Vanitas’ original powers? It wouldn’t solve his current captivity problem, but he was already making things up as he went; he could still go along with his plan to kill Riku and fake the rest. Even that was a faulty plan at best, and as Vanitas had honestly told the group before, he didn’t mind dragging Ventus down with him into whatever fate was meant for him. If he was most likely screwed either way, why not at least make a break for the more favorable of his options?

There was a sound like steel unsheathing as Vanitas summoned his Keyblade. He waited, expecting that to get Ventus’ attention, but there was still no response. He glowered.

 _You useless idiot. You haven’t changed at all. Still too weak, still too trusting._ This time his fingers did slip around that skinny throat, but he didn’t squeeze. He just needed the grip for leverage, to make sure he drove his Keyblade as deep into Ventus’ chest as possible in one go. He would only have one chance at this. _He should’ve let me kill you back then, like I wanted. Would’ve saved him a lot of time._

His keychain jingled as he shifted onto both knees, pulling his weapon back over his shoulder.

Ventus’ pulse was steady under his thumb, eerily identical to his own. It was relaxed, calm, and barely discernible. Faint, but he could definitely feel it.

Wait.

_He’s there. It’s faint, but I can feel him._

Terra’s words.

Vanitas faltered. If that was right… there was a chance Terra would notice if Ventus’ light was suddenly extinguished, faint or not. Or if not he, then somebody among the group would surely pick up on the discrepancy. Probably Eraqus, as light-sensitive as he was.

Slowly, reluctantly, Vanitas’ hand fell away. He dismissed his Keyblade, but remained crouched beside Ventus for another minute or so. Watching him, and thinking.

 _Maybe your blind faith in your friends isn’t as misplaced as I thought._ With an irritated grunt he stood. _Probably just dumb luck… but they’re protecting you even now, aren’t they?_

Vanitas wasn’t sure how that made him feel. He was annoyed at the loss of opportunity, but at the same time he felt… uncertain, for some reason. Confused, as though he was missing something. It brought back memories from a long time ago -- memories he preferred not to drudge up, memories of conflicting emotions between Ventus and himself, of pained confusion as he tried to make sense of what he was and whom he wasn’t.

_Do you even know what love is?_

Love is weak, Vanitas wanted to say. But he couldn’t. He knew its power; it had killed him twice. It had made a warrior out of a broken weakling. It had stalled even Xehanort’s otherwise perfect plan for thirteen years because he underestimated it. It was a force to be reckoned with, just as much as light and darkness.

But that wasn’t what Ventus had asked.

_Do you even know what love **is?**_

Love was a vulnerability. It was Ventus’ greatest strength, but also his biggest weakness.

Love was everything Vanitas wasn’t. It was positivity, selflessness, sympathy, kindness.

Love was why Ventus didn’t hold anything against Eraqus. Love was why Aqua’s bright eyes always thinned when she looked at Vanitas wearing Ventus’ body like a suit. Love was why Terra looked ready to rip Vanitas out with his bare hands if possible.

Love was what made the memory of Xehanort’s betrayal so painful to Ventus. He didn’t say it, might not have even realized it beneath all his anger, but Vanitas remembered that, too, along with the rest: he hadn’t loved their Master, but Ventus had. Xehanort had taken him in when he had nobody else; it wasn’t surprising that somebody as clingy as Ventus would immediately take to the hand that fed him. Xehanort hadn’t been cruel to him, either, just as he hadn’t been cruel to Vanitas. Strict, yes, and unloving, but Vanitas knew he could have had it much worse. They both could have.

Give him half a reason and Ventus would love anybody, it seemed.

 _Well. Almost anybody,_ Vanitas thought. After a moment, he rocked back on his heel and swiveled in place with a low scoff. Why was he even thinking about these things? There was no point. _Guess you’re starting to rub off on me, too. Great._

After a couple steps he stopped, looking down at his left hand. It was a small detail, maybe nothing. Maybe summoning Ventus’ Keyblade in the Graveyard the other day had been a fluke; maybe the way it had hummed in his fingers when he picked it up a little bit ago was coincidence.

Or maybe it was something he could use.

He cast another glimpse back at Ventus, who remained still. Then, focusing, Vanitas held out his left hand, and instead of drawing on the familiar comfort of his own darkness, he concentrated instead on Ventus’ annoying, cold light, using his mind to pull from it--

\--and while it seemed sluggish, somehow, there was a bright flash as steel formed between his fingers. It took a second longer to fade than it should have, but once the light was gone Vanitas found himself looking once again at Ventus’ Keyblade.

Interesting.

With a sharp twist of his mouth, Vanitas dismissed the weapon. Maybe nothing, maybe not.

He didn’t like to lie, sure, but omitting the truth was fair game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> making total guesses about plot things in KH3 to the best of my ability there, idk


	7. Round One: Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May the best man win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this one! This originally started as one super long chapter, but as it’s been so long since the last update I decided to just cut this in half so y’all can have something already (and prevent a hugely TL;DR fight scene for those of you who don’t want that all in one sitting) and move the second part to chapter 8.

It went smoothly, Terra thought. Almost too smoothly.

The group returned to the throne room, all the while pretending as though Riku was still going alone. If Vanitas suspected anything, he didn’t show it. Eraqus put him to sleep with a spell and from there Riku took over, instructing Terra on what to do once the process began. It was simple enough, so he didn’t need to hear it again.

As they summoned their Keyblades, Terra glanced sideways at Eraqus and met his gaze. Both of their expressions were neutral, but no words or signs were needed. With that look Terra swore to bring his fellow pupil back to their Master; Eraqus acknowledged that he would do nothing less.

Terra stole a glimpse at Aqua next. Her shoulders were straight and her head held high, as always, but her eyes gave her away. Concern. She’d already let one friend slip out of her fingers. She didn’t want the other to do the same.

( _“Terra--” Aqua stopped, glanced around the room, and then looked back up at him uncertainly. Taking him by the wrist, she gently tugged him away from the table to speak with him privately, her voice low. “Terra, I know what you’re thinking. I feel the same way. But if you go with him, there’s a chance you might--” She hesitated, but he knew where she was headed._

_“...I might have to fight Vanitas,” he finished grimly. “And he might still look like Ven.”_

_She nodded. “We don’t know what will happen in there. If you say you can handle it, I’ll believe you. But if you have any doubts at all, please--” Her fingers tightened on his arm, the gesture beseeching. “Don’t go. Just trust Riku.”_

_“It’s not about trust. It’s about being there for one of my best friends when he needs me.” Terra put a hand on her shoulder, giving her the most reassuring smile he could manage. “I’ll be fine. Stay here -- help the Master. I’ll be back with Ven before you know it.”_

_Aqua searched his eyes for a few more seconds as though looking for a hint of insincerity, but found none. Slowly, she nodded as her gaze fell away. “Okay. Be careful, Terra. Please.”_

_“You got it.” They rejoined the others a moment later, and Terra met the eyes of each person around the table. “I’m going.”_

_Eraqus nodded. “Very well. In that case, Aqua, once we’re done here I need you to update him on what we discussed. If Terra has the opportunity, he can inform Ventus of our intentions while he’s there.”_

_“Yes, Master.”_

_“However--” Eraqus paused, looking thoughtful. “There is one recommendation I have on this matter. Let us keep Vanitas in the dark on Terra’s involvement, as much as we can. Say nothing on it.”_ )

Now, Terra smiled at her again. A little grimly, but confidently all the same. Aqua nodded, barely noticeable, and mirrored his look.

And then his attention was back on Riku, awaiting his cue to act.

* * *

Despite the differences in the outcome, diving into a heart was always the same process. Riku still wasn’t quite used to it, but that was probably a good thing. It kept him from becoming complacent.

Surprisingly, however, this was the first time he didn’t run into a fight on the way in. During his exam, it had been Nightmares interfering; when he helped Sora save the others, everything from figments of memory to Heartless had stood in their way. Despite that he and Terra were diving into _two_ hearts, nothing came to meet them.

Rather than relieving, it was only suspicious.

Through the superficial darkness they fell. It probably seemed longer thanks to the uneasy silence, but after several minutes there was finally a flicker of light in the distance. As it neared, colors flickered into view, and Riku recognized it as a Station of Awakening. That much, at least, was familiar.

Their descent slowed automatically, and in less than a minute they set foot on the stained glass display. Only then did Riku speak up. “Strange… I’ve never seen a heart like this.” He glanced at Terra, who was also observing the Station’s design. The circle was actually split in two: a likeness of Ventus occupied one half, but the other… the other looked as though somebody had taken a paintbrush and haphazardly scribbled black paint all over it, although a humanoid shape could be seen, vaguely, underneath the mess. Some of the jagged lines reached onto Ventus’ side, all of their points coming to rest over his heart. Riku looked at the darkened half thoughtfully. “Vanitas?” he wondered.

Terra didn’t respond. Riku looked at him again and saw that he was frowning, taking everything in with a dark look.

“Terra?”

“Hm?” Snapping out of his thoughts, Terra met Riku’s stare before shaking his head. “I don’t know what to make of it. But…”

“But?”

“I was just… thinking about what Master Eraqus said. How I couldn’t sense a difference between Ven and Vanitas before.”

“What do you think it means?”

Rubbing his chin for a long moment, Terra finally just shook his head. “Forget it. Doesn’t matter. We need to keep going.”

That was neither convincing nor reassuring, but Riku didn’t press. He walked to the very middle of the Station and knelt down, observing the change of color here as the picture shifted to a portrait of background scenery. For Terra and Aqua, their Stations had depicted the Land of Departure. Ventus’, the first time, had shown a barren desert that Riku later identified as another side of the Keyblade Graveyard. This time…

“I think I know where we’re going,” he murmured. Terra stepped up beside him, looking over his shoulder.

“Vanitas’ influence,” he surmised, although he didn’t sound too sure.

Drawing his Keyblade again, Riku stood up and stepped back to hold it aloft. After a couple seconds a glowing Keyhole appeared in midair, floating above the center of the glass floor; he twisted his wrist and his Keyblade with it, and suddenly their surroundings shattered.

In the time it took them to look around, fragments of color were already falling to replace the black void. In seconds the pieces had lined up, there was another, brighter flash of light, and suddenly they found themselves standing in the Keyblade Graveyard.

Despite that it was all technically an illusion, the hot air and hard soil underneath their feet felt plenty real. They stood amongst the sea of dead Keyblades once more, their eyes automatically going to the collection of cliffs in the distance. Over them loomed the shining outline of Kingdom Hearts.

Riku glanced up at Terra, who answered before he could ask. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

As they went, they found the Graveyard to be as desolate as the real one had been. They came across nobody and nothing living; Ventus and Vanitas were nowhere to be seen. “Should we split up?” Riku asked as they came to the first cliff.

“No.” Terra’s reply was immediate. “Not until we have to.”

Heart-diving may have been something of a specialty by now, but Riku considered this to be more Terra’s show than his own. Terra knew Ventus and had fought Vanitas on top of possessing more experience in general. If he gave advice, Riku was prone to heeding it.

They kept walking. The quiet was unnatural, with no sound of animals or even the wind to break it. Just their own footsteps, which seemed too loud but at the same time fell flat against the surrounding wall of silence.

After leaping their way across a narrow ravine, they both came to an abrupt stop in the same instant, at once exchanging knowing looks. Something dark was pressing in on the edges of Riku’s senses: not just a hint of it, either, but _pure_ , black darkness, the thick scent of which was as repulsive to him as it had always been. Only one other living being had possessed a darkness that deep and formidable.

Ansem.

Warily, Riku and Terra rounded the next corner and stopped. Standing only a little ways ahead on an elevated jutting of earth was a figure shorter than both of them. He was masked and sporting a close-fitting outfit of black and red -- which was all too familiar, Riku noted right away with a light frown.

The masked boy was facing them. Despite that there was no way he could have overlooked their arrival, he didn’t react. His arms remained crossed over a lean chest, his posture utterly relaxed.

He looked first at Riku, his hidden gaze lingering for several long seconds before he turned to Terra.

“Surprise, surprise,” he remarked, a thin layer of sarcasm saying the situation was anything but. His voice was deep and harsh, but collected and almost frigidly indifferent. “I expected Aqua at first,” he mused, “but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense that _you_ would insist on barging in here if anybody did.” He tilted his head, the gesture either thoughtful or mocking. “Is that where he gets it from?”

“Where is he?” Terra asked, ignoring the speech.

Slowly, the boy -- Vanitas -- shrugged. “Around.”

Terra didn’t budge, but as sensitive as Riku was to the element, at this range he could feel a flicker of suppressed darkness in the man’s heart. Negativity. Anger. Regardless, Terra’s voice remained level. “The sooner we find him, the sooner we get you both out. _Where is he._ ”

Vanitas made a dismissive sound somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff. He took a few seconds, but then turned partway to the side and jerked his head, indicating the distant cliffs over his shoulder. “Think I might’ve felt him over that way.”

Although he kept his body angled toward Vanitas, Terra turned his head and the majority of his attention to Riku, lowering his voice. “I don’t trust him at our back.”

Riku stole a glimpse at Vanitas, who continued to watch them without moving. “I don’t think taking him with us is a good idea, either,” he replied in the same tone. “Not until we know what’s going on.” He turned back to Terra. “Go get Ventus. I’ll stay here.”

“You sure?”

Riku nodded. “Don’t worry. This is why it’s good to have back-up, right?” He gave a light smirk, hoping to ease any uncertainty on Terra’s part. It seemed to work.

“All right. Be careful.” With that, Terra started in the suggested direction. Vanitas didn’t comment, didn’t move, didn’t even look over as Terra approached. Only when the older wielder drew even with him did Vanitas finally speak up.

“You know, you never answered my question.”

Terra stopped. The two of them were nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. “What?”

“Could you raise your Keyblade against Ventus when it mattered?”

Even from here, Riku could see Terra’s eyes narrow. “Do you plan to get in the way?” Terra challenged.

“Not me, no. But consider that my _friendly warning,_ ” said Vanitas smugly. “It’s the least I can do to repay you for proving me right.”

They held one another’s gazes for a few more terse seconds, but then Terra was the one to break it as he hurried off across the field. Vanitas turned back to Riku. “Guess it’s just you ‘n me.”

“Guess so,” said Riku coolly. “So. What’re the odds you want to do this peacefully?”

In a glimmer of shadow, Vanitas’ Keyblade appeared in his hand. Riku cocked his head in acknowledgement. “Not very high, I see.” He, too, summoned his weapon, but it remained at his side. “Even if you could take both me and Terra down, then what? You’re surrounded by Keyblade Masters outside. There’s no escape.”

“No,” Vanitas remarked coldly. “If you separate us like you’re planning, _then_ there’s no escape. I’m not looking forward to jail time for the rest of my life.”

“Freedom or death, huh?” Riku mused, quietly. “You know, those aren’t your only options. They tell me you’re made from darkness, but that doesn’t matter. You’re the one who chooses what to do with yourself, nobody else.”

“Well, aren’t _you_ Ventus Junior. Skip the bleeding heart speech, kid. I sat through that lecture once already.”

Riku cocked an eyebrow. Vanitas looked about the same height and build as Ventus. “Who’re you calling ‘kid’?”

“Show me you know how to use that Keyblade, and maybe I’ll take it back.”

“Heh.” Riku raised Way to the Dawn above his shoulder, his posture shifting. “Guess I’ve got a real reason to fight you now.” Then, in curiosity as much as a challenge, he asked, “You gonna keep hiding behind that mask?”

Very slowly, Vanitas tilted his head in a way that managed to look both pensive and exceedingly arrogant. In his lack of visible facial features, he appeared to have mastered getting his attitude across through minimal body language. “I might. Maybe I’m doing you a favor.”

“What, you’re not very pretty?”

“More like--” In an instant Vanitas went from his relaxed stance into a battle position, hefting up his thick Keyblade in an overhand hold. “--I don’t need the handicap.”

 _Handicap?_ Considering he came from Ventus -- he _was_ Ventus, if Riku understood it correctly -- the only logical assumption was that Vanitas shared his face. Riku barely knew either of them, so that shouldn’t have been a deterrent to his resolve in the slightest. Or maybe Vanitas was underestimating him, assuming he couldn’t hurt an ally, period.

“How considerate of you. You get your soft side from Ventus?”

 _“Ha!”_ Vanitas’ barking laugh was almost startling, unexpected after his unruffled demeanor previously. “You’ve got a mouth on you. That’s a nice change. The others are always way too serious.”

Riku had the feeling this wouldn’t be the last time he questioned this guy’s sanity.

* * *

There was no sign of anything as Terra went, only more crags and stone and wasteland. For a moment he began to fear that Vanitas had lied to him, that he had just been tricked into leaving Riku alone, but then a glimpse of color amid all the dead brown caught his eye. He sped up.

It only took a couple more steps to determine that he was looking at Ven. The anxious knot in his chest loosened, but then tensed again as he came closer. Ven was on his feet, but his head hung towards his chest. He was in his armor, minus his helm, and in his right hand--

Terra stopped.

In Ven’s hand was a Keyblade that looked much too large for him. It sported a double hilt, a netted weave of steel above the guard, and a long, white blade--

 _Why does he have the X-blade?_ The thought hit Terra like a punch to the gut. And yet, rather than letting his wariness stop him, he resumed his approach at a run. “Ven!”

The boy didn’t look up, even when Terra stopped just within arm’s reach. “Ven -- hey, it’s me!” He reached forward -- and then hesitated, looking him over, but Ven’s body language remained relaxed and unaware. Terra put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. Ven, it’s all right--” He managed a smile, hoping it would come through in his voice. “You’re safe now. Come on -- let’s wake you up and get back to Aq--”

Ven’s head suddenly jerked up. All Terra caught was a glimpse of a cruel smile before Ven drew the X-blade effortlessly back over his shoulder and stabbed forward--

\--only to be narrowly deflected as Terra knocked it aside with his left arm on pure reflex, his vambrace shrieking under the impact. Even with the steel protecting him, that glancing blow was enough to make him wince at the bruise it must have left.

The thrust went harmlessly past him, as did Ven, who instantly recovered and whirled around to deliver a fast but heavy vertical strike. Terra’s right hand flashed as he parried, catching the blow with his own Keyblade before the summoning was totally complete -- and he nearly buckled under the force in his surprise. One arm had always been more than enough to outmatch Ven, but now Terra was quickly having to shift to a double grip to maintain his position. Was the X-blade just that heavy? Or was Ven himself much stronger than usual? 

“Ven--!” Terra quickly shifted his footing to compensate for the force. Ven was still grinning madly, almost eagerly as he watched Terra struggle. “Snap out of it!”

With a snarl Ven twisted the X-blade, hard enough to break their stalemate and send Terra stumbling to the side. Rather than pursue, however, Ven drew himself up to his full height. “I am _not_ Ventus,” he announced coldly, arrogantly. “His heart has become a part of mine now.”

 _Vanitas?_ Terra tensed, but his mind was already jumping a couple steps ahead. _No -- even here, Vanitas shouldn’t be able to be in two places at once--_

Ven moved. Again Terra parried, cringing as their Keyblades collided hard enough to make even his calloused hands sting. He was ready for the impact this time, however, and threw his weight forward at the clash to prevent another fallback. As he met Ven’s wild gaze, that was when he noticed:

His eyes were their normal blue. Not yellow.

_What--?_

Ven shoved him off again and followed up with another slash, much faster than he should have been able to swing something of that size. Terra met him more readily than before, putting more strength into his counter-blow to send Ven back a few steps. “Wake up, Ven! You’re being controlled!”

If Ven could hear him, it wasn’t enough to change anything. He attacked again, still with that ridiculous strength and those brutally fast slashes. Terra quickly switched tactics, leaping out of range and to the side; at Ven’s next attack he did the same, continuing to dodge and weave until they were under the shadow of the cliffside towering overhead.

When Ven swung again, Terra jerked backwards but stood his ground, letting the blade pass less than an inch in front of his chest. The instant the swing was over, he lunged forward. Ignoring every instinct that yelled at him to be gentle, he dismissed his Keyblade and threw his right arm across Ven’s neck to half-tackle him into the cliff wall. Ven made a small sound of pain as his back met earth and his breath was knocked out of him. His expression flickered briefly from frigid arrogance to one more familiar, the look of a kid trying to act tough and bite back his discomfort to prove that nobody had to go easy on him -- and it brought back so many painfully raw memories that Terra nearly faltered.

Nearly.

But he’d committed to the action before now for this reason. He pushed his doubt and guilt away, down into the darker recesses of his heart where he might need them later, and snatched Ven’s Key hand by the wrist to pin it beside him. Ven struggled, but Terra’s bulk alone had the advantage.

“Ven.” His voice was level now, no longer spiked by emotion but as grim as his expression and as firm as his grip. Ven looked up to meet his gaze, his own once again hateful and hostile. “I _know_ you’re in there. This isn’t Vanitas -- you’re stuck in some kind of memory.”

Ven writhed sharply to the right. Terra held firm. “Listen to me, Ven -- I’m not sure how I’m supposed to do this. All I can think of is holding you off until you break out of this yourself.” It was very possible that more was required of him, but there was a big difference between knocking Ven around during training and actually beating him down in a real fight. Maybe playing defense for the long stretch would be enough. If it wasn’t…

Then he understood Aqua’s fear now.

“I know you’re strong enough,” he insisted. “This isn’t you -- you know that.”

“I’m--” Ven’s voice cracked. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head as though trying to clear it. “I’m -- not -- Ven--”

“Yes, _you are._ Listen to yourself! Ventus!”

Ven thrashed against his weight with a long, frustrated cry.

“Ven, fight it! Please!”

There was a flash as the X-blade disappeared from Ven’s hand, and for a heartbeat Terra was hopeful--

\--only for that feeling to be dashed as the weapon reappeared in Ven’s _left_ hand and came down in a hard swing. Terra was forced to retreat, but he was an instant too slow and the blade sliced down his chest in a shallow but bloody -- and painful -- line. He jumped back a ways, summoning his Keyblade once more as he regarded his friend with a pained gaze.

Talking was doing little good. Were Terra alone, he would keep trying regardless, but he had Riku -- and Vanitas -- to think of. He couldn’t waste time.

“What’s wrong?” Ven asked snidely. “Giving up already?”

Clenching his left fist, Terra breathed in slowly, deeply, as he turned his attention to the emotions festering in his heart. Fear, regret, anger, anxious concern -- all forms of negativity, and also the easiest and quickest way to draw on his darkness.

He didn’t want to resort to that. The idea of using darkness against one of his best friends made him uneasy, while the very thought that he might have to made him furious, but he had considered this before now. He had promised Aqua that he wouldn’t hesitate.

It didn’t make this any easier, but it did help keep him focused.

“...All right,” he said quietly, although not so much that Ven couldn’t hear him. “I’ll do this.” Shifting his footing and squaring his shoulders, Terra assumed his usual battle stance. “But I don’t wanna hear any apologies when this is over, Ven. From you _or_ me.”

Ven charged. Terra held his ground.


	8. Round Two: Deuce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh I can’t believe this story reached 1000 hits! :O Thanks so much to those who have stuck with me this far (despite how slow I am to get new chapters up sometimes sob), and a special thanks to those who leave kudos and comments and let me know that this fic is worth continuing. Your input means a lot!! I hope I can continue to give you the plot twists and portrayals that keep you coming back. <3

“Looks like we’re getting somewhere.” Vanitas glanced over as he stood up. If Ventus hadn’t picked up on the foreign presence in their heart, well, he knew now.

Surprisingly, it incited no reaction either way. Ventus’ head twitched in his direction, a slight acknowledgement, but it wasn’t the childish excitement Vanitas would have expected. Not by a long shot. “What?” Vanitas prompted. “You were all talk about how wonderful your friends are -- you doubting ‘em?”

“No,” said Ventus quickly, but even that lacked the usual defensiveness. Vanitas didn’t push, but he didn’t back down, either. He remained standing, deceptively relaxed, lingering in that too-close-to-be-harboring-killing-intent-but-too-far-to-be-friendly distance that they had previously established. After a few frustrating beats, Ventus finally looked up at him, his expression serious. “What’re you gonna do?”

It wasn’t exactly a surprise question, but Vanitas hadn’t expected it to be asked with so much weight. A day ago, wouldn’t Ventus have just demanded to know, or even tried to order him around into being compliant?

Vanitas broke eye contact to stare off into the endless white void again. “You heard your Master. As long as I give no provocation, I’ve got nothing to worry about.” He didn’t hide his sarcasm, but it was light enough that it shouldn’t have come off as a lie. Hopefully.

“That’s it, then? You’re really going to go peacefully?” Ventus sounded doubtful. Wise choice.

“It’s not like I have many options, is it?” Not for the first time, Vanitas was irked that there was nothing to lean against in here. He settled for crossing his arms over his chest. “Although -- I’m sure if you ‘n me worked together, we could pull something over on all of ‘em. Sure you don’t want to just stay like this?”

The sarcasm was minimal, but it was a joke all the same -- a jab, really, meant to make Ventus mouth off. Once again, however, he surprised Vanitas by not taking the bait and only dropped his gaze to his lap with a short, sharp exhale. “You should take their offer,” he said.

Vanitas had to check his temper at that. He wanted to snap at him, to point out that it was easy for _him_ to say that when his freedom wasn’t on the line -- but he didn’t. He only arched a mild eyebrow. “Now _you’re_ the one giving advice? Save it. Grow up some more and then we’ll talk.”

“I’m serious.” Ventus looked up again, but Vanitas didn’t budge. “If you don’t do anything, neither will they. But if you do something stupid, you know everybody out there has orders to deal with you.”

“Heh.” It was more of a grunt than a laugh. “Watch it, Ventus, it almost sounds like _I’m_ the one you’re worried about.”

Another pause. Another brief sigh. “...Well… believe it or not, I’d like it better if you lived through this.”

No amount of careful self-control could have stopped Vanitas from shooting him a hard look right then. He tried to think of something sarcastic, but all that came out was, “What?”

Ventus met his stare evenly. “We’ve made it this far, haven’t we? And a couple times you’ve been... almost kind of okay to be around. You should work on that.”

Holding the look for a few long seconds, Vanitas was finally the one to break it off with a low grunt. “You’d be surprised. As long as there’s not some idiot ticking me off, I’m always ‘okay.’ ”

Ventus snorted, but it actually sounded amused rather than skeptical. “Yeah. Sure,” he replied, sounding anything but convinced.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin’... It’s just, your good mood isn’t very different from your bad mood.”

“How do you know what I’m like in a good mood?”

Leaning back on his hands, Ventus gave an insufferably cheeky grin. “You had a good time sparring, didn’t you?” When Vanitas only narrowed his eyes, Ventus gave a real laugh this time. “I feel what you feel, remember? You enjoyed some of it.”

“I _enjoyed_ knocking you on your face,” Vanitas corrected, but it didn’t do a thing for Ventus’ smug look.

“Same thing.” Ventus shrugged.

_“Grow up already.”_

With another, louder snort, Ventus looked up at him -- and then his stupid smile wavered, those ridiculously blue eyes thinning thoughtfully. “...Huh. Are you…?” He seemed to reconsider the question and paused.

“Am I what?”

“It… kinda felt like…” He trailed off hesitantly. When Vanitas arched a sharp eyebrow, Ventus tried and failed to smother a smile that said he was about to tempt fate. “Were you--” His voice cut off, and without warning it returned in a loud, pained cry. Vanitas might have been startled, except that he cried out at the exact same time -- because a sudden pain had seized him out of nowhere, a harsh, piercing pressure in his chest that reverberated up his neck and into his skull.

He hit his hands and knees in a blur of noise and color, dimly aware that Ventus had also collapsed beside him. It took him a moment to realize that the noise was his blood rushing and heart pounding in his ears on top of their synced screams -- and that the color was what should have been that boring white backdrop, now flickering as quick as lightning between different hues and shapes and patterns.

What _was_ this? The pain wasn’t familiar -- he’d never felt anything so intensely, intrinsically agonizing before -- surely he would remember, but it wasn’t even slightly--

...ah.

As if in tune with that recollection, his chest gave a sharp twinge that choked the last of the breath from his lungs. Vanitas hit his forearms gasping, fists clenched so tight that his fingertips were numb.

He -- Ventus, rather -- had felt this once before. Only once.

Their heart was being pulled apart, and by force.

Right then, Vanitas didn’t care about his plans. He couldn’t think clearly enough to consider what was causing this or how it might potentially work in his favor -- his only concern was that it felt like his ribcage was being stretched open, his heart sawed in half, and adrenaline wasn’t working fast enough to trump the undeniable fear for his life that seized him.

Every muscle and nerve in his body wanted to curl in on itself. He wanted to drop to the ground and wait for it to pass, but he redirected that weakness into anger and fought the temptation. He bit down on his bottom lip, _hard_ , until he felt it split and tasted blood -- and something about that pulled him a little closer to reality.

_Ventus. Get to Ventus._

It was the only possibility he could think of. There was nothing else to go on. Slowly, he raised his head -- gradually, he shuffled forward one inch, two more, several, every motion making his heart pound faster until he thought it might explode.

Ventus was on his side, conscious but still. With a half-lidded gaze he watched Vanitas crawl towards him, his knuckles white as his hands clutched his arms in a desperate death grip. His eyes were distant, almost blank.

_Don’t you dare pass out on me,_ Vanitas wanted to hiss, but he had the feeling his capacity for speech was limited. He had just crossed into arm’s reach when the last of his energy gave: he dropped where he was, but managed to lurch forward enough that he linked an arm over Ventus’ side. This way, propped up, he could still make eye contact.

Their options were few. They could barely think, let alone move, and given the nature of what seemed to be happening, only one possibility was coming to mind.

“Open up to me,” Vanitas panted. There was neither time nor energy to explain, but surely he didn’t have to. Surely Ventus knew this agony as well as he did. “We need to join again.”

Ventus’ expression didn’t budge, although he kept on watching him. Every second hurt. Then, slowly, Ventus turned his head away ever so slightly. Vanitas detected his doubt. It was a refusal.

Vanitas was almost in too much pain to even feel his anger swelling up. It manifested as energy -- not a lot, but enough -- and he lunged with a snarl that was just as much frustration as it was a vent for his misery. He caught a fistful of Ventus’ jacket, tightly, as though that grip was also holding onto his consciousness -- but as he leaned over him this time, his proximity wasn’t intended to be threatening. He wanted to make sure his next words were heard, because they were probably the last that he could manage before he passed out or worse.

He could have said a lot of things. A threat, an insult, a reminder that they were _this close_ to getting out -- but he knew Ventus. He knew emotions appealed to him more than aggression or force -- and while Vanitas had no positive emotions of his own to play on, he knew which of Ventus’ were the most vulnerable.

So in his frustrated desperation, Vanitas heard himself say the last two words he would have ever expected to come out of his mouth.

_“Trust me!”_

Clarity returned to Ventus’ eyes. Even through his pain, he managed to shoot Vanitas a look that said he’d caught the irony. He didn’t reply, didn’t even move aside from the continually harsh rise and fall of his chest -- but then Vanitas felt it. On a separate level from his five basic senses, deeper and much more complex than the sixth that controlled his perception of light and dark -- underneath it all was a seventh sense. It was as unnatural as it was unwanted, a blessing as much as a curse, the proverbial red string that had connected the two of them since their separation.

Through that, Vanitas felt Ventus let his guard down, his heart relax. And his own, as undeniably sentimental as it still was by nature deep, deep, _deep_ down, responded with a skipped beat before quickly falling back into a rapid but matching rhythm.

For the second time in a little over a day, their hearts united completely. Just like before, there was a flicker of discomfort that quickly escalated into a burning pain between Vanitas’ ribs -- Ventus’ light was too bright, too strong -- but it was nothing compared to the pain he was already in. After several long seconds it faded, leaving behind an uncomfortably _content_ feeling, almost, a relaxed satisfaction and deep warmth that Vanitas had never known. Nor did he care to know it now.

Then every feeling both positive and negative simply _stopped_ as his surroundings went bright white, and then black.

When Vanitas awoke, he had no perception of time or location -- only that something was off. Shoulders tensing, he struggled against the fog in his head and swiftly blinked his eyes open, only to wince when they were hit by… moonlight?

No, that wasn’t the problem. Neither was the very familiar sight of empty desert and high cliffs. As Vanitas shook off sleep, he kept trying to pinpoint what his askew instincts were telling him -- and then the last of his senses caught up and he felt something close, _too_ close, warm and touching him--

He was on his feet in an instant, backpedaling several clumsy steps until he caught himself on a large boulder. Chest heaving, he looked back -- and saw Ventus lying on the ground, out cold. Memory quickly flooded his sore head and he remembered -- that terrible pain, his last-ditch effort to save them both -- at the same time that his body relaxed. He’d passed out on top of him, apparently. That was what the unfamiliar touch and presence had been.

Vanitas snorted quietly. Old habits died hard. He wasn’t used to being touched, anyway, but it didn’t help that Xehanort had drilled quick reflexes and an innate sense of self-preservation into him from day one. After all, Vanitas had been one valuable half of a very lucrative and painstaking plan -- it wouldn’t do for him to die before fulfilling his purpose.

He took quick stock of himself and the area. His head still ached, but after what he’d just been through he couldn’t complain -- especially when it prompted him to try casting Cure and it _worked_. His magic reserves were a little stressed from that trauma just now, but he had his magic back. And this was the Keyblade Graveyard, beyond a shadow of a doubt -- or the illusion of it, at least. As for Ventus…

Vanitas turned to him again. If the two of them had joined but were still separate like this, they must have still been in their heart. _As if the location doesn’t give that way,_ he thought. It appeared that here, inside Ventus’ very core, Vanitas couldn’t assume control of his heart. Only his body on the outside.

Oh, well. His last-minute thinking had worked, so that was all that mattered. Now the problem at hand… 

He looked out over the expanse of barren dirt and tall cliffsides. Riku was here, no doubt, but not close enough to be detected yet. That meant, hopefully, that Vanitas had some time to figure out what to do about Ventus--

Even as he thought it, Vanitas heard movement. He turned quickly and frowned as he saw Ventus climbing to his feet. “Late as always. You still feel anything?”

Ventus didn’t respond. He didn’t even look up; his eyes were fixed on the ground, his posture slack. Vanitas studied him uncertainly. “Ventus.”

Still nothing. Before Vanitas could resort to an insult, there was a flash of light bright enough to make him shield his eyes; when it faded, Ventus was… wearing his suit of armor. All of it except for the helm, anyway, and still looking like a dazed zombie. But Vanitas’ attention was immediately drawn to his right hand -- and the X-blade it held. He tensed.

“What did you-- No,” he realized, speaking mostly to himself. Stepping closer but taking care to keep just out of striking range, Vanitas stared hard at Ventus’ weapon. No… this wasn’t the real X-blade. It wasn’t theirs _or_ Xehanort’s. Just another illusion.

A thought occurred to him and he cast another, more thoughtful glance at their surroundings. This… it was an older memory, but he remembered. Vanitas laughed under his breath, turning back to Ventus and giving him a considerate once-over. “So… this is what you remember. Or maybe not,” he wondered. “Maybe this much is my fault.” Neither his voice nor his neutral expression suggested any feelings of guilt on the matter. “Why only you, though…?”

Because this was Ventus’ body? Or did this day still haunt him? Did reuniting just now cause some kind of interference? Whatever the reason, it seemed Ventus was locked inside his memory to some extent -- what that meant in the long run, Vanitas had no idea, but at the moment it put him down for the count. Hopefully he would stay that way for a while.

Taking a step back, Vanitas perked up slightly as something touched the edge of his senses. _There._ A light was approaching -- but it was balanced by a strong darkness, too. Riku. And…

Another one? A second light. It, too, concealed an impressive shadow -- a much stronger one. Vanitas would recognize that aura anywhere.

Terra.

Something inside of Vanitas throbbed, almost painfully, as he thought the name. He dismissed it -- a lingering bruise from their episode just now, surely -- and slowly smirked. “You should be glad, Ventus.” He swept a hand over his face and his mask formed, dimming his sight slightly but promising a potential advantage, should he need it. Just as long as he timed it right. “We get to see who’s right about your hero.”

There was no response.

* * *

Vanitas was fast.

 _Really_ fast. He was quick on his feet, his strikes were swift despite the bulk of his Keyblade, and he had an impressive reflex of twisting like a snake to avoid blows aimed at his core and higher. It took Riku little time to realize that he was very much a zoner type of fighter, the kind who could easily dominate a battle through sheer force as long as it remained in his preferred range. Whenever Riku fell back, Vanitas was swift to pursue, trying to maintain the short distance that gave him the advantage.

This wasn’t somebody who had fumbled around with his Keyblade until he learned how to use it. His poise and footwork boasted formal training; even the brutality of his strikes was tempered with patience and careful calculation. He was fast, but he wasn’t hasty, and that made him even more dangerous. He was more of a physical combatant than a caster, but what magic he did work in was fast and deadly and brimming with darkness.

Riku played defense for nearly a full minute -- longer than he would have normally taken to scope out an opponent, but between Terra’s warnings, the grave faces and distrust of the other wielders, and the passing knowledge that Vanitas had been closer to Xehanort than most, risks weren’t to be taken lightly here.

Once he had an idea of his enemy’s style, Riku began to watch for an opening. He needed to finish this as quickly as he was able; he didn’t like how Vanitas had let Terra out of his sight so easily, as though certain he would be gone long enough for him to win this fight. Vanitas knew much more than he was saying, surely.

As Riku dodged a slash and countered -- and was instantly parried -- he saw the opportunity he wanted: Vanitas suddenly staggered, exhaling sharply. It seemed misplaced in light of his previously fluid movements, and he played it off well by recovering in the same second with a quick step, but Riku saw it all the same and acted more on reflex than conscious thought: he cast Fira with his free hand, forcing Vanitas to dodge in the direction opposite of where his momentum was taking him, and kept up with him to lash out with his Keyblade.

Vanitas blocked, but narrowly. Riku was already a step ahead, wrenching his weapon upward in a double grip and a strong swing. Rather than backpedal in retreat, Vanitas caught himself -- at the cost of Riku’s blade striking the frame of his mask. It looked like a clumsy move at first -- he hissed loud enough to say it hurt -- but as he staggered sideways he ducked into a quick spin, building momentum and coming out of it with a slash aimed at Riku’s middle. When Riku dodged backwards, Vanitas stayed low and lunged forward, but it was his free hand that struck out to cast a net of dark lightning. Riku raised his Keyblade, blocking the worst of it, but tendrils of electricity cackled past his hasty defense to whip at his bare arms and snake around to his core, knocking him backwards with a painful jolt.

Vanitas, fortunately, seemed to have used that attack as a distraction to jump back and recuperate. The front of his mask was cracked from chin to crown, but it remained intact. His face was still hidden. “Not bad,” he commented, sounding bored. “But not very good, either.”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I? That counts for something.” Sarcasm aside, Riku regarded him more seriously. “What did you do with Ventus?”

“Hmph. What makes you say _that--_ ” Vanitas darted forward in another direct attack that Riku parried. When they parted to gather their bearings once more, Riku eyed him skeptically.

“Sorry if I don’t buy that you’d risk going up against all three of us. Is he even here?”

Another rapid exchange of blows, at the end of which Vanitas replied, still nonchalant, “Oh, he’s here. As for what ‘I did,’ I’m pretty sure I saved his pathetic life earlier. Turns out our heart doesn’t take well to intruders.”

Riku sidestepped, slashed, missed. Concern got the better of him. “What?”

“Who knows? I guess four’s a crowd. But even if you get him out, I’m curious how he’ll do. He wasn’t looking too much like himself when I saw him last.”

It could have been a bluff -- any part of it, maybe all of it. Whether it was or wasn’t, Riku now felt twice as pressed to get to Terra and help out. _Something_ was up, even if Vanitas wouldn’t say what.

With that in mind, Riku began to push offense.

* * *

This time, Ventus was aware.

He was aware, but only vaguely, as if it were a dream -- but dreams didn’t hurt, and now his hands were stinging and his chest ached from where Terra had shoved him before.

Sometimes he saw Terra, here in the present. Sometimes he saw Aqua in what he guessed was the past, fighting alongside Mickey. And sometimes his vision cut to Riku, wounded and bleeding and speaking words he couldn’t hear.

Whomever it was he was fighting, Ven couldn’t stop himself. His body moved with a will of its own -- attacking, dodging, casting, speaking, laughing. The voice was his own. The words were Vanitas. But the will behind them was something else.

(Vanitas was elsewhere. Vanitas had lied. Vanitas was fighting Riku, Vanitas was desperate beneath all his calm -- he got hurt once and Ven felt that bruise on his chin--)

Vanitas had protected him. Not intentionally, of course, but he had, and since then there had been a weight in Ven’s chest, a kind of sadness that was separate from the angry grief of fighting Terra. He couldn’t think straight enough to figure out what it was, but his own words from before drifted in and out of his mind -- _Believe it or not, I’d like it better if you lived through this_ \-- along with that look of utterly stupefied surprise that they had incited.

Ven was probably being too optimistic, even for him.

But one thing at a time. Right now, on the outside of the mess that was his thoughts, he was doing the worst thing imaginable: he was fighting and hurting Terra.

Or _trying_ to, anyway. Whenever he was granted a mostly-clear view of the scene, Terra didn’t look any worse for the wear -- but those glimpses were scarce, brief, and Ven was soon lost inside those murky visions again. The only time his head cleared, it seemed, was when he felt significant pain. The first time, when Terra had pinned him, had been the clearest -- enough that he had been able to struggle for control for a few fleeting heartbeats. Since then, those moments were fewer and weaker and he was locked inside himself again.

It was hard to think. It was almost impossible to focus. Everything inside and out ached, distracting what little clear thought he was granted, but he struggled with everything he had to hold onto one single thought: the next time he felt that break, the next time he felt pain, he needed to speak. He wasn’t strong enough to claim his body back, not yet, but he needed Terra’s help with that. His priority was getting his point across.

He didn’t have to wait long. A hard impact shook his whole body and suddenly he could see again: he was lying on his side, a number of minor aches throbbing from his fingers to his shoulders. Despite the padding of his armor, his arm and hip hurt from the fall, and there had been no protection to keep his head from striking the earth. Terra stood close by, Keyblade in hand, alert but hesitating--

\--and Ven, even as his body twisted onto its hands and knees, threw everything he had into forcing his voice up through his dry throat.

_“Terra!”_ He sounded strange in his own ears. “Don’t hold back! Fight me--” He cried out, but the sound was just as much his own as that of the force controlling him. He dropped the X-blade and gripped his throbbing head, his whole body trembling beneath the strain of his inner battle.

“Ven!”

He lost hold. In a blink he retrieved the X-blade and slashed out at Terra, who was suddenly way too close. It cost him a bloody shoulder, but the blow was glancing and he quickly retreated as Ven jumped to his feet again.

Terra’s stare was hard -- not angry, but Ven recognized the look. It was analytical. Uncertain -- but alert. Against his will Ven charged again and he vaguely felt his palms sting as weapons clashed.

He just hoped those few words had been enough.

* * *

Riku’s previous observations helped him keep up, but wherever Vanitas lacked in defense, he made up for it in speed. Despite that the two of them were in constant motion, they were essentially at a stalemate, landing hits only occasionally and even then they were skimming blows.

But the impasse couldn’t last forever, and it was Riku who finally broke it: a feint and some quick improvisation landed a heavy swipe across Vanitas’ chest, tearing up over his collarbone and barely missing his head. Blood painted the air. Vanitas swiftly sidestepped to Riku’s left, undoubtedly trying to hit him on his open side at the end of that swing, but instead of trying to reverse direction Riku just spun quickly in place to strike out with another two-handed sweep--

\--right as Vanitas gave a low, startled cry and stumbled, his right leg appearing to suddenly give way underneath him. The fall was a bad move: it put him at eye-level with Riku’s Keyblade, which smashed into his head at full strength and speed.

His mask shattered in an explosion of glass. The impact sent him toppling to the side, but he recovered and rolled off of his shoulder to come up on all fours -- or three, rather, with one hand still gripping his Keyblade for support. His head hung towards the ground as a mess of black hair spilled over from the remaining shell of his helmet.

Riku resumed his neutral battle stance, tensed and not even daring to blink -- but he wouldn’t be so cold as to strike Vanitas down execution-style. “Give it up, Vanitas. You’re outmanned one way or the other.”

A high-pitched chuckle shook Vanitas’ shoulders. “Maybe so! About time a Keyblade Master gave me a real challenge.”

Riku nearly faltered. The deadpan apathy in that voice was gone, replaced with something unstable and almost… giddy.

“You’re tougher than Aqua, I’ll give you that.” Slowly, Vanitas climbed to his feet again, still with his chin towards his chest. He cast a healing spell towards his leg as he went, allowing him to stand straight once more. “But I wonder if you’ve surpassed her yet.”

_What’s he planning?_ Riku’s fingers tightened around his hilt.

“What’s that saying?” Vanitas mused. He laughed again, but quietly this time, his sudden calm more sinister than that misplaced mirth had been. “All’s fair in love and war?”

He looked up.

Gold-yellow eyes. An arrogant, malicious smirk.

Both were wrong. Both were _so wrong_ , misplaced, because his face -- _they didn’t belong on that face--_

Riku went very, very still.

_What--_

Before he could even start the thought, let alone finish it, Vanitas moved in a blur of black. Riku’s instincts screamed, but he only got as far as tensing up when pain erupted in his left side. He stumbled sideways, survival reflexes clawing to catch up with his shock, but it was all too slow: Vanitas doubled back and hit him again, a solid blow to the spine that knocked Riku to the ground. Despite the pain raging through his fresh injuries, Riku flipped onto his back, just in time to see Vanitas bearing down on him, and rolled to the side. Steel struck dirt, an ominously empty _clang_ ringing out sharp as that Keyblade slammed down where Riku’s throat had been a second before.

He rolled up onto his feet, taking a few more backward steps to gain some ground -- but Vanitas was _already_ within arm’s length again and swinging down in a brutal overhand blow. Somehow, he was moving even faster than he had been for the last few minutes -- or maybe he had been holding back the whole time, waiting for that opportunity--

Riku got his guard up, but only one-handed, and his wrist flared with pain as his attempt was knocked down and away, the tip of Vanitas’ blade nicking his shoulder. Vanitas recovered in an instant and reversed his swing; with his own weapon still knocked askance, Riku could only try to jerk back out of the way, but again, he wasn’t quite fast enough. Vanitas clipped the underside of his chin hard enough to send him into the dirt a second time.

Blood pounded in his head and flooded his mouth, but these were background sensations. All of Riku’s focus was on sight and sound, and both told him that he wouldn’t outmaneuver Vanitas this time -- so rather than try to rise, he brought his Keyblade up and braced the flat side against his left arm as a guard: a good call, because it kept Vanitas from stabbing down into his chest half a second later.

But it was also a bad one, because for the moment in which their blades were locked -- Riku lying flat on his back, Vanitas standing over him with all his weight pushing down on their stalemate -- it granted him a full, clear view of his opponent’s exposed face.

“Hmph… Ventus fell for that move twice,” Vanitas mused casually. “You really are more than I would’ve guessed.” He flashed a slow, deliberate smile at Riku, but everything about the expression -- it was cruel, it was dark, it was everything Sora wasn’t. His mask’s steel frame added a sharpness to his features, an almost twisted sense of maturity that Sora lacked.

And yet he had Sora’s face.

“Who are you?” Riku snapped. The tension in his voice betrayed both his surprise and the pain of his wounds.

Vanitas shifted his posture in a way that resembled a halfhearted shrug -- or maybe that was coincidence. “There’s not much to ‘who’ I am,” he remarked coolly. Unlike Riku, he didn’t sound even slightly out of breath. “I’m Ventus. Ventus as he could’ve been. Should’ve been. Ventus as he _was_ , partly.”

Riku was slowly losing the struggle to keep their blades aloft. He twisted onto his side, redirecting both into the dry earth and freeing his left arm just long enough to give himself a hard shove up. Vanitas recovered and swung again, but when he missed this time he didn’t pursue. As Riku retreated and recollected his balance, Vanitas only watched with that same suspicious and misplaced smile, his movements casual and almost lazy as he let his Keyblade drop to his side.

“But that’s over and done with,” he went on, as though there had been no interruption. “As for ‘what’ I am…” He chuckled briefly, although his mouth was now a flat, unamused line. “A leftover. A…” He seemed to think for a moment, running his fingers over the jagged glass along the edge of his mask. He found a large shard, broke it against his thumb, and tossed it to the side. “...an empty creature. Another animal just scrambling to survive.”

There was zero emotion in his words. No anger, no frustration, no self-pity or regret or contemplation or uncertainty. Just indifferent, matter-of-fact acceptance. That could have hardened Riku’s heart -- it could have let him dismiss Vanitas as something less than human, could have helped him shut out the fact that he was fighting somebody with his best friend’s face.

It didn’t. Instead of indifference, in spite of his burning injuries, Riku felt a hint of pity. Not enough to let his guard down, not enough to even begin thinking that Vanitas was anywhere near justified for the way he clearly was, but the uneasy recognition was there all the same. Darkness was a formidable force -- not stronger than the Light, necessarily, but more dangerous. It required a certain kind of fortitude to balance oneself with it, to avoid letting it eat you alive and infect your heart like a disease.

For some reason or another, Vanitas had obviously lacked that resolution. This was somebody who embraced that side of himself willingly, gladly, and accepted all the baggage and self-sacrifice it brought as a small price to pay for his power. If he’d ever had somebody try and pull him back from that edge, he had ignored them.

It was unfortunate. But it was no excuse.

“And Sora?” Riku asked quietly. “What do you have to do with him?”

“Ventus,” Vanitas replied, bluntly as though in correction. “I have everything to do with Ventus, and Ventus has everything to do with Sora. But that’s his story, not mine.” Again he shifted, returning his weapon to his favored overhand hold -- while his free hand swept subtly over his right leg with another brief Cure spell. “Ask him yourself. If you survive long enough.”

Riku caught the motion. He jerked his chin forward in indication. “What happened there?”

Cocking his head in a _wouldn’t-YOU-like-to-know_ gesture, Vanitas let the question linger for a couple seconds before deigning to answer. “You’ll have to ask Terra. Looks like he’s getting serious, after all.”

_Terra?_ Assuming he was with Ven, what did he have to do with…

Riku’s eyes widened, and then narrowed. It couldn’t be -- could it?

Vanitas saw the look and smirked again. “Might wanna be careful about how hard you hit me. I don’t think explaining to Terra why Ventus suddenly dropped dead on him would be very fun for you.”

Riku flexed his fingers around his hilt, taking the chance to inhale deeply. This was getting more complicated by the minute. “Why would Terra and Ventus be fighting?”

“Maybe Ventus finally outgrew his doting hero,” Vanitas proposed. Bitterness and distaste lined his tone. “Maybe he doesn’t _want_ to be separated from me -- ever consider that?”

_‘I was just… thinking about what Master Eraqus said. How I couldn’t sense a difference between Ven and Vanitas before.’_

_‘A being of pure darkness should have a very distinct presence… It’s as though Ventus’ presence is balancing Vanitas’ darkness.’_

Riku frowned, quickly pushing those thoughts aside. He didn’t know Ventus all that well -- he didn’t know _any_ of those three, not really, but the absolute sincerity and utter conviction in Terra’s and Aqua’s trust and love for their friend was crystal clear all the same. Even had Ventus not been one of the seven Guardians alongside them, their faith alone spoke volumes.

And somebody who had been harbored inside Sora for so long -- somebody who, in the few times that Riku had been with him, resembled Sora even more closely in nature than Vanitas did in appearance, begging the question of whether there had been some heart-to-heart influence during those years… Somebody like that probably didn’t even know the meaning of _betrayal._

“No,” Riku answered. “I’m pretty sure I don’t have to.”

As sore as he was, he didn’t try to heal himself yet. It was better to save his reserves for when he really needed them -- and against this unpredictable and tireless opponent, especially, he needed to carefully ration every resource… and figure out a way to take this guy down without killing him.

Swallowing the blood on his tongue, he wondered aloud, “So is every trick of yours a dirty one?”

Vanitas gave a disgruntled half-laugh. “Believe me, I didn’t sign up for this circus. Not on purpose. But who am I to turn down the advantages?”

Sucking in one more sharp, quiet breath, Riku also raised his Keyblade to full height once more. “I appreciate the gesture, by the way. Not showing me your face before now.” Vanitas’ eyes thinned questioningly. “But I’ve fought Sora before. Kicking around somebody who looks like him isn’t really a big deal for me.”

Vanitas sneered, but Riku couldn’t tell if it was annoyed or slightly approving.

* * *

“Don’t hold back! Fight me--”

Ven’s voice warped, twisted by pain as he was forcefully subdued. Despite his better judgment, Terra hurried forward -- and paid for it a second later with a narrow blow to his shoulder. Nothing major, but it was a hard reminder that he could be manipulated in this situation if he wasn’t careful.

_But that was Ven._

Terra blocked with both hands as he was rushed again, the sound of scraping steel echoing off the cliffs around them for what felt like the thousandth time.

_It was a warning._

One he couldn’t let go to waste -- not when Ven had clearly fought so hard to give it to him -- but all the same Terra wasn’t sure how to take it. _Don’t hold back_ \-- surely this wasn’t a cruel repeat of all those years ago? Surely Ven didn’t expect Terra to actually strike him down?

No. He’d said _Fight me._ Not _Kill me._

“Don’t hold back,” Terra echoed under his breath. He forced Ven backwards to unlock their blades and regarded his friend with a set expression. “Okay, Ven,” he said more loudly. “I get it. We have to play rough.”

In a blur of motion Ven disappeared and reappeared in front of him -- above him -- in a full-strength swing. Terra sidestepped, caught himself on his heels, and launched forward, diving hard to the left when Ven launched Firaga straight at him.

_Could you raise your Keyblade against Ventus when it mattered?_

Vanitas surely hadn’t meant for that remark to be helpful -- but in a way, it was. If he hadn’t said it, Terra might not have considered the possibility to begin with. He might not have been prepared to do this.

This _did_ matter. And “raising his Keyblade” didn’t refer to friendly, halfhearted sparring.

It meant beating Ven down until either the repressed part of him regained control or he was weak enough to be carried out of here -- and small and gentle-natured though Ven was, that would be no easy task. Vanitas knew that. It was why he mocked Terra’s resolve -- he was probably certain that Terra would die first before he seriously hurt his friend. And if that was the case…

...he probably wasn’t looking to come out of this side-by-side with Ven.

Which would mean that all of this was likely a distraction.

Terra needed no further convincing. He took the initiative. He charged forward to exchange another flurry of parried blows, but instead of pulling back after another narrow dodge, he feinted a sidestep and spun in a quick three-sixty, passing his Keyblade to his left hand to throw a wide, hard, sweeping blow at Ven -- who dodged, barely, in a quick jerk that nearly cost him his balance. Terra pushed the offensive and pursued, both hands on his hilt to deliver a sideways strike that Ven hastily blocked.

_Keep pushing, keep pushing--_ Ven leaped backwards, but Terra stayed on top of him. Overhand blow, dodge, jab, dodge -- Ven was entirely on defense now, which meant Terra would never catch him. So on the next attempt Terra was intentionally slow, faking a clumsy strike that easily missed, and predictably Ven countered in a heartbeat by bringing the X-blade down in a vicious attack aimed for Terra’s skull--

And everything, every positive and negative emotion currently broiling in Terra’s heart finally released, surging up through the rest of his body as raw power. He twisted in place and blocked Ven’s blow with his left arm -- but instead of losing the limb, he stopped the X-blade dead. Dark magic swirled angrily from his shoulder to his fingertips, pulsing in time with his rapid heartbeat and the adrenaline-laced buzz coursing through every nerve.

For an instant the two of them were locked in place, eye-to-eye -- and in that fraction of a second the evil in Ven’s gaze wavered. Maybe it was simply surprise, maybe it was something else, but Terra saw it. He took reassurance in it.

\--And then Ven suddenly staggered, his free hand grasping at his chest with a pained grunt.

Terra’s first impulse was to be concerned -- Ven was hurt, _how_ \-- but with the darkness channeling through his heart and body came a clarity of mind. It did nothing to his emotions, it couldn’t shake his worry for Ven’s well-being, but it kept his senses sharp enough for him to sense the X-blade’s pressure letting up slightly.

_Trust him._

In a blink Terra’s arm twisted, his fingers closed tight and rough around Ven’s Key hand, and he had an opening.

Like his own, Ven’s armor had a glaring weak point: while his chest and arms were heavily shielded, his legs were much less so. Assuming an opponent could manage to get this close, only a layer of leather served as any protection.

It wasn’t much, least of all against steel. And that was why Terra’s next move was almost ruthlessly efficient: his Keyblade swept upward, slicing deep over Ven’s right thigh.

The younger wielder practically crumpled in place with a snarl, but Terra kept a tight hold on his hand. “We’ll keep doing this, Ven. Whatever it takes.”

For a moment Ven seemed to relax, shoulders sagging as he panted harshly. Only for a moment, and then Terra felt his fingers tense a split-second before his free hand lashed up and out. Terra blocked with his Keyblade, but the force of the Thundara spell was still enough to knock him back several steps and break his grip. Ven climbed to his feet, favoring his right leg but otherwise appearing to disregard the pain. His smile was gone, however, replaced with a narrow, distracted look.

“Ven?” Without letting his guard down for a second, Terra studied his face and hoped for a sign. “Keep fighting it. I’m still here.”

With a hiss Ven shook his head, drawing the X-blade over his shoulder as he charged again. Oddly, there was no limp to his injured leg.

Terra’s mind raced even as he moved to meet him. Ven had clearly struggled for control three times now: first when he’d been pinned, again when he was thrown to the ground, and just now, when his leg was hit… What was the link?

Ven fired off three Blizzaga shots. Terra retreated, dodging from a safer distance as he thought over what he knew.

Those three times. Each time, Ven had been hit hard and knocked down.

_Don’t hold back!_

Each time, he’d been hurt.

Pain.

Was that it? If so…

...If so, Terra was actually at an advantage. He knew Ven better than most -- maybe better than anybody -- and Terra knew him as an opponent just as well as he knew him as a friend. He knew Ven’s strengths in battle, his biggest weaknesses. Terra knew how much speed it took to actually keep up with him, how much force he could put behind his blows before he risked seriously hurting him. He had a good guess at Ven’s limits as a whole, although he was sure they had only improved since the last time they properly sparred together.

Either way, he knew: Ven wasn’t made of glass.

In a blur Ven disappeared. Moving on instinct, Terra whirled around and raised his Keyblade -- and sure enough caught another blow meant to kill him. He twisted their locked blades to force Ven to the side.

There was no guarantee his guess was right, but at least now he had a strategy to work with. As much as he hated the thought of it, there wasn’t any time to search for an alternative.

He made his choice quickly. Ven closed in and Terra fell back again to play defense, but this time he chose a place, braced himself, and held his ground. He was done adapting to Ven’s sudden style of fighting -- Terra needed to dominate this battle starting _now_ , and that meant doing what he knew best: hit hard, hit fast, and stay close.

Taking his hilt in both hands, he shoved against the X-blade with full strength -- and channeled a wave of darkness at the end of it, nearly doubling the force. Ven staggered, withdrew to collect his bearings, but Terra didn’t give him the chance: he darted in high, still wielding two-handed. Ven snaked sideways to avoid the blow, which struck the earth and split it, and then he tried to quickly counter with a broad strike. Terra, however, had predicted it, and swiftly dropped to one knee to duck under the swing even as he kept his own Keyblade moving, raking it hard across the ground in Ven’s direction. Magic flared at the end of the arc, sharp stalagmites leaping up from the dirt. Ven had to put some height in his jump this time as he dodged -- but Terra had predicted that, too.

He met Ven in the air and caught a hint of surprise on the boy’s face. With much less maneuverability up here, Ven could only hastily try to block Terra’s next swing -- but Terra was already a step ahead and still had the advantage of both strength and weight. He knocked Ven’s weapon aside almost easily, leaving him wide open, and quickly stretched out a hand until his palm nearly touched Ven’s chest -- focused -- reached deep inside himself to channel his darkness upward, outward, into a tangible spell--

\--and Ven was blasted out of the air towards the ground, much faster than gravity could carry him. He hit the dirt in a crunch of metal and an angry cry, the earth around him bending beneath the impact. Terra hurried over as soon as he landed on his feet, but Ven threw out another casting of Thundara that he had to swerve to dodge. Despite that, Ven seemed to be struggling again, holding his head as he climbed unsteadily to his feet.

Terra didn’t waver. He closed in and swung again -- and was blocked, but the effort was halfhearted, weak. Again he plowed through Ven’s defense, again he put his all into the blow, and this time his Keyblade tore across Ven’s chestplate hard enough to make the steel scream as it was opened from his ribs up to his shoulder. If it cut through to the skin, it didn’t cut very deep, because Ven recovered in a heartbeat and lashed out surprisingly fast. Terra’s right bicep burned as the X-blade sliced over it, but he gripped his hilt in two hands once more and struck, catching the vulnerable part of Ven’s left arm between his plates.

They kept at it, a furious and desperate exchange. Terra suffered a hard cut to his side, but Ven was taking the most damage between them. He was slowing down, some of his movements were distracted, and his face flickered between anger and arrogance and something like uncertainty. If Ven, the true Ven, was still fighting on the inside, then this fight wouldn’t last much longer.

Suddenly Ven stabbed forward, his shoulders raised and footing set in a way that said he was prepared for another parry -- but instead Terra stepped sharply to the side. He slipped into a swift spin, slamming his hilt between Ven’s shoulder blades as he passed. Ven lurched, his choked and breathless cry sounding more like him than anything else so far. He caught himself and spun back towards Terra -- who had already closed in, but reversed his grip to drive his hilt into Ven’s lower, exposed stomach.

For a moment it looked like Ven would fall as he stumbled backwards, but he caught himself. Hunched, breathing hard, and dirty with sweat and dust, he glared at Terra with the X-blade hanging by his side. He hardly looked like himself.

Terra didn’t speak. It was hard to tell whether his voice helped or hurt matters. He, too, lowered his weapon, although it stayed firmly in hand. Ven took one shaky step forward -- and then halted, grabbing at his head again with a strained growl. The glow along the X-blade’s edge flickered once, twice; Ven stumbled again, but then shook his head and looked up--

And it was Ven. Gone was the pain, the rage, the smirk, the emptiness -- the look in those eyes was one Terra would recognize anywhere. It took a few seconds, but Ven’s grimace slowly eased into a small, hesitant smile.

“Ven…” Terra’s grip on his hilt slackened. He took a step forward.

And then Ven’s smile tore into a savage grin, the light in his eyes seemed to ignite, and in a blink he launched forward with X-blade drawn back for a last, desperate, end-all attack aimed dead center at Terra’s heart.

Terra smiled. It was a look of recognition, of understanding, and a little bit of satisfaction. He had predicted that move, too.

He jerked narrowly sideways, dodging the stab, and countered -- but rather than his Keyblade, it was his _fist_ that lashed out, and it hit Ven square in the face.

This time, Ven did fall. He hit the ground on his side in a clamor of metal plates and the clang of his weapon falling from his fingers. As it landed beside him the air around it seemed to distort, and as Terra watched its appearance melted away to reveal Ven’s true Keyblade. After a couple seconds it faded in a flash of light, dismissed. Likewise, his armor began to glow, and then in a flicker it was gone to leave him in his usual clothes.

It was over. If there was any doubt, it dissipated as Terra felt a flicker of light from Ven’s direction, one that quickly grew into the equivalent of a small beacon as his heart was freed completely. That was the sign he had been waiting for, the indication that Ven was truly himself once more.

Terra let his own Keyblade fade as well, his darkness receding and his adrenaline fading to leave him tired and let the guilt start creeping in. Regardless, he was at Ven’s side in an instant and kneeling down. Ven was breathing fine, but heavily. A touch to his forehead said his skin was hot; his face was flushed and bruised, and blood was already starting to seep through from the cut on his leg and a few other places. Strangely -- and Terra almost missed it -- his undershirt was torn and there was a hard cut that curved over his clavicle. Fresh from the look of it, but he was certain he hadn’t struck Ven anywhere near his throat. Nor would he have attempted to.

“Ven?” he tried.

“Heh… hehe…” Ven’s laugh was weak, but his small smile was heartfelt as he cracked an eye open. “I knew… you’d do what was right… I told him…”

“Easy. Don’t push yourself.” Despite the gentle reprimand, Terra was also smiling.

Ven took that to heart and relaxed completely with a short sigh. “Forgot what it was like… t’feel tired… ha…”

Terra wasn’t sure if that was a joke or deluded exhaustion talking. Either way, Ven was all right enough to speak. That was all that mattered right then. Setting a hand on Ven’s knee, Terra concentrated and called Cura to mind. As far as he knew, injuries here didn’t transpose to their real bodies, but that was no reason to leave him in discomfort. “I know I said no apologies,” he said with a guilty quirk in his smile, “but I’m sorry for punching you in the face, at least. That wasn’t fair.”

Again Ven laughed, stronger this time. “Nah… you did what you had to. I wasn’t exactly fightin’ fair, either.” Slowly and with effort, he rolled back just enough to look up at Terra. Despite the blood and bruises and fatigue, his eyes were as bright and lively as ever. “I won’t tell Aqua if you don’t.”

Terra returned the laugh as he finished the spell, but the sound was more relieved than amused. Ven was definitely himself again, no doubt. As Terra moved to cast a general Curaga over the rest of Ven’s injuries, he grew more serious. “How d’you feel, Ven? Does it feel like something might take over again?”

“No…” Ven seemed to think for a moment before continuing, “No, I’m okay. I think it was…”

When he trailed off, Terra offered, “Vanitas? It sounded like he knew what happened to you.”

Ven blinked up at him, looking surprised and confused. “Vanitas? No, it wasn’t him -- we were both--” He stared at Terra for a pause, eyebrows knitted. “Did you see him?”

“When we came in, yeah. I left Riku to watch over him, but…” Terra’s distrust was obvious and he didn’t try to hide it. There shouldn’t have been a reason to, anyway. Ven knew how Vanitas was. “I need to get back and check on them. Think you can stand?”

Ven didn’t answer. He didn’t even appear to have heard the question. He sat up silently with obvious effort, cringing, the look on his face so pained that Terra put a hand on his back to help. “Hey, careful -- what is it?” Ven still said nothing. He looked… puzzled, staring down at his knees with a distant expression. Then his head snapped up and he looked at Terra -- no, past him, over his shoulder.

“...We need to go,” he said, sounding dazed.

“What?”

_“Riku,”_ Ven blurted quickly. He blinked himself out of his stare and turned to Terra. “Riku’s in trouble -- they both are!”

“Both?” Terra echoed. “How can you--”

“There’s no time!” Rolling onto his hip, Ven tried to stand only to collapse feebly in place with a groan.

“Ven!” Terra put a hand on his shoulder, trying to still him. “It’s okay, I’ll go and--”

“No,” Ven interjected. It was a surprisingly forceful tone coming from him, and he caught Terra’s wrist in weak fingers as he looked up. “Sorry, but -- take me with you. I need to be there.”

Terra frowned. Carrying Ven, if he had to, wouldn’t slow him down at all, but he was entirely vulnerable except for what protection Terra could provide. If Vanitas really had turned on them, then he wasn’t above going after Ven for the advantage. Doing his best to sound reassuring, Terra told him calmly, “We can handle it, Ven. I know I can’t underestimate him--”

Ven shook his head rapidly. “No, that’s not it -- I--” He winced, either at the motion or something else. “I can’t -- there’s no time to explain -- but you can’t kill him.”

“What?”

The grip on Terra’s arm tightened slightly. “Please, Terra!” Ven implored. “I need to talk to him!”

Terra stared. That remark -- _you can’t kill him_ \-- had sounded like a warning at first, but… the look in Ven’s eyes suggested something else. Something that Terra, at the moment, couldn’t comprehend.

But Ven was right about one thing either way: there was no time to waste. “...All right,” Terra agreed heavily. “Let’s go.” Taking hold of Ven’s wrists, he turned and pulled him onto his back, and then secured him in place by gripping under his knees.

“Thanks,” Ven sighed over his shoulder, sounding relieved. “And -- Terra… listen -- I never told you, but Vanitas -- he looks like--”

“Explain on the way if you can,” Terra interrupted, starting back the way he’d come at a run. “But first, I’ve got a message from the Master. Something you need to know.”


	9. Final Round: Sudden Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _My favorite part of the game._

Aqua withheld a sigh as she sat down, once again, on the steps beneath the thrones, crossing her arms over her stomach in the uneasy silence.

It was going on two hours now. She wasn’t alone -- Eraqus and Mickey stood close by and alert -- but nobody had spoken in a while. Ven’s body remained unmoved, unchanged, and undisturbed. As predicted, it had been a whole lot of waiting so far.

It wasn’t just Terra she was worried about. Whatever Vanitas claimed, she still didn’t trust him, and that seemed to be a common sentiment throughout the group. He may have been outnumbered two to one -- three, including Ven -- but she knew from personal experience that numbers meant little. The fact that he had agreed so easily, in hindsight, only worried her more.

“It’ll be okay, Aqua.”

Blinking out of her thoughts, she lifted her eyes to see Mickey standing in front of her, smiling brightly. “You know Terra will do everything he can to help his friend. And he ‘n Ven have both beaten worse odds before,” he pointed out. “Ya might not know Riku very well yet, but I promise ya he’s as dependable as they come.”

Aqua chuckled. It felt good, smiling again. “I’ve already gotten that impression a few times. You’re right, I’m sure they’re fine.” Her tone didn’t sound one hundred percent certain, however, and the tilt of Mickey’s head said he noticed. After a moment Aqua let her smile slip, figuring her doubt was already exposed, anyway. “I guess I was just… hoping this was all over. Fighting each other, sitting on the sidelines while others are in danger…” She drew her legs up and set her arms on her knees. “I just hope the war ends with this. Really, this time.”

“So do I. But we’ve still got a lot of cleanin’ up to do, too.”

She gave a light nod. “Yes. But as long as we’re together, that’s all that matters. We’ll take care of it.”

Mickey watched her for a few seconds. “...Gosh, Aqua. I know the three of you are really close, but you never worried this much before. What’s wrong?”

“It’s…” She hesitated, and then shook her head. “I know how hard it is to fight somebody you care about. Terra will do what he has to, I know -- but he shouldn’t have to go through that.” _Like I did._ “I think… I should’ve stopped him. I should’ve gone instead.”

“Aw… I know how ya feel. Fighting Ven back then was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. But I think Terra knew that -- and maybe that’s why he was so determined to go.”

Aqua blinked, brows knitting in confusion. “Huh?”

“You said yourself that he’ll do what he has to,” said Mickey. “If he’s that confident, he mighta volunteered so you wouldn’t have to. You didn’t force him to do anything, Aqua -- he was probably lookin’ out for you _and_ Ven by goin’.”

“He…?” Thinking back, Terra’s words to her when he volunteered were too casual -- there hadn’t been a hint that he was thinking of anybody besides Ven. Then again--

_Could you raise your Keyblade against Ventus when it mattered?_

_Or would you leave her with the dirty work, like always?_

Vanitas’ words… Terra couldn’t have taken those to heart, could he?

“And if there’s one thing I know for sure about you three,” Mickey went on cheerfully, “it’s that you always come through for each other. I know it’s tough waitin’, Aqua, but there’s no doubt in my mind that all three of ‘em are comin’ back safe ‘n sound. And I’m sure you know that, too.”

Aqua fidgeted with the ends of her sleeves, thinking those words over. In her heart of hearts she _did_ know, she trusted Terra’s promise entirely and was positive that Ven would be fighting just as hard in whatever way he could, if necessary -- but…

_No. No buts._ Mickey was right. All she could do right now was trust them -- anything else was a waste of time and energy. They were counting on her, too, to be ready when they returned.

Slowly, Aqua smiled again, and this time it was entirely genuine. “You’re absolutely right, Mickey. Thank you.”

He beamed. “There ya go! Now all we’ve gotta--” His cheerful face suddenly grew hard with a frown, a glare directed at something over Aqua’s shoulder -- and by the time she noticed that, she felt it: a chilling touch, an all too familiar sensation, that made her heart skip a beat and the hair on the back of her neck stand up--

She leapt to her feet, Keyblade appearing in her hand without her willing it to, and rounded on the sudden spike of darkness that had infiltrated the room. Her breath caught in her throat.

Ven was still bound to the middle throne, still limp with apparent unconsciousness -- but there was no mistake. The darkness was coming from _him._ It was practically rolling off him in waves, not offensively, but it indicated a surging power nonetheless. It was building.

Eraqus was beside her in a heartbeat. “What happened?” he asked sharply.

“I don’t -- I don’t know--” Aqua lowered her Keyblade, although her grip remained tight enough that her knuckles were pale. Setting her face in a determined frown, she mounted the low steps and drew cautiously close to Ven’s side. He didn’t respond. Despite that the darkness around him was thick enough here to make her skin crawl, Aqua knelt down to get a look at his face. His eyes were half-lidded -- and she could see that they were still yellow, but they lacked the brilliant color from before. They were dull and muted. Empty.

Concern overrode wariness. “Ven?”

“Be careful, Aqua.”

She nodded distractedly, and then slowly reached for his hand.

\--And was suddenly struck by a tremendous force, hard enough to hurt and throw her backwards down the steps. Strong hands caught her before she could hit the ground, helping her quickly to her feet a moment later, and she so dazed from the blow that it took her a few slow seconds to look from Eraqus back to Ven again.

The darkness’ presence had tripled in intensity. Before Aqua could try to figure out what that meant, deep shadows sprang up around Ven, twisting and stretching and breaking away from him to land on the marble floor as solid forms. They swiftly took shape -- some on two legs and others on four, some airborne with wings -- and for an instant she thought they were Heartless.

Then their thin eyes formed, every pair a shade of bright, scarlet red.

_“Unversed?”_ Her voice was nearly drowned out by the ring of two more Keyblades being summoned. “Why are Unversed here?” And why were they coming from _Ven?_

“Worry about it later!” Mickey piped up, and with good reason: what had started out as three of the creatures were already growing into a dozen, all of them facing the trio with obvious intent.

Shaking away her confusion, Aqua swiftly stepped forward to take the lead and stood up straight. The castle was compromised, but she knew her place. “Please stand back, Master.” Her voice was calm, but a vein of ice ran through it, too. This mess had gone too far. “Mickey and I can handle this.”

* * *

_“Got ya--”_

The air at Riku’s back went frigid as he threw himself forward, catching and swiveling his weight on his free hand to face the blur that was Vanitas coming into focus. Shards of dark ice split the earth where his Keyblade touched down, the latest in a string of spells, but Vanitas straightened up without a hint of fatigue to show for any of it.

Riku, on the other hand, was breathing hard and slowing down. He’d given in and healed himself a few times, but curative magic only accounted for tear, not wear. It couldn’t replenish energy.

“You’re making this harder on Terra, you know,” Vanitas called. “The longer you drag this out, the longer he has to fight Ventus. If you just roll over and die now, I can still make it over there and kill him _myself_ \--” He lunged, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. Riku ducked under his swing and slipped around to his left, countering with an uppercut that managed to skim the outside of Vanitas’ shoulder. He retreated at the end of the motion, but Vanitas stayed on him with a rain of slashes that pushed his reflexes to the limit.

The instant he saw an opening, Riku lashed out with swift casting of Dark Firaga. It hit Vanitas square in the chest, knocking him backwards -- but that was all it did. Vanitas caught himself after backpedaling a few steps, shooting Riku an amused look that almost resembled pity. “Wrong element, kid.” He unleashed the same spell. Despite tossing up a partial Barrier just in time, Riku felt the sting of it up through his shoulder and the sheer force nearly toppled him; he turned it into clumsy backflip and recovered, just in time to parry Vanitas again with a two-handed block. The angle was a bad one and Riku’s left knee gave under the pressure, giving Vanitas the advantage of height and weight--

And then Vanitas gave a strangled grunt, his breath leaving him sharply and his shoulders jerking as though struck. His pressure let up and Riku instantly took the chance, forcing him to the side with a hard shove. He wasn’t able to disarm Vanitas as intended, but there was still enough of a delay to throw in a normal Firaga -- which Vanitas dispelled with a hard slash, but the easy apathy was gone from his face. It was set now, distracted, and for the first time in the last few minutes he stood still.

If he had been telling the truth before, then Ventus must have gotten hurt -- he’d flinched a few times, unprovoked, since dropping that little detail -- and if he wasn’t looking too happy… “Things not going the way you planned?” Riku panted.

“They never do,” Vanitas countered coolly, but there was strain in his voice that didn’t show through on his face. For once he didn’t initiate the return to battle, so Riku took his turn and charged in quick. Vanitas blocked once, twice, three times -- the longest he had played defense so far -- with yellow eyes thinning in discomfort each time before he finally jumped backwards, only to stumble slightly at the end of the movement. That invisible blow must have hurt much more than he was letting on.

And Riku needed to take advantage of it. He began to push now, summoning his remaining energy into rapid strikes. As their blades tangled again, Vanitas suddenly hissed as his left arm jerked, and the distraction cost him as Riku slammed a quick Aero into his chest. Vanitas caught himself with a sharp exhale, and then swiftly rebounded to try and claim the offensive position again.

It was obvious that he was in a hurry now. He had probably underestimated Terra, either in ability or his willingness to hurt Ventus -- which meant Vanitas was now risking the possibility of facing all three of them, not to mention more injuries that would put him at a disadvantage.

“It’s not too late, Vanitas--” Riku jerked back to avoid a swing and then quickly closed in again. They locked blades, putting them at eye level, and there was more hate and hostility in Vanitas’ gaze than his calm demeanor would have suggested. “You can still walk out of here with us!”

Vanitas made a face that was part grin, part sneer. “Are you always this soft? Or is it just because I have his fa--” That smirk was wiped off as his voice choked, his whole body shuddering with some unseen impact. Riku was ready for it and instantly knocked his Keyblade aside for an opening -- but rather than striking with his own, he swung intentionally short and unleashed a dark shockwave. Vanitas may have been immune to its damage, but not to its force: he was sent skidding backwards, only just managing to stay on his feet. Before he could even start to resume his battle stance, his body shook again and he doubled over sharply with a gasp, free hand clutching his middle. Even then he forced himself to look up, Keyblade still held tight, blood on his lips, and teeth clenched against the pain.

He really was prepared to fight until the end.

And that made Riku’s choice clear. He would have to act on the next opportunity as soon as it came, breaking Vanitas’ guard and knocking him unconscious. Again Riku closed in, but even now, winded and breathless, Vanitas reacted with perfect timing and threw out another wave of black lightning. Riku leapt over it and landed heavily at Vanitas’ back, who instantly turned to meet him -- only to stagger hard to his left, his neck twisting sharply as though he’d hit a wall. Riku was ready and put all his remaining strength into slamming a two-handed blow against the inside of Vanitas’ Keyblade, hard enough to make his palms sting and his shoulders ache -- Vanitas was left wide open, his left hand hastily casting Blizzara but only skimming Riku’s shoulder. It was still enough to hurt as the biting cold cut his skin and crept into his bones, but he didn’t falter.

_Gotta disarm him--_ Again Riku let his darkness surge up, this time as raw power and in a direct palm-strike to Vanitas’ chest. Vanitas was knocked back hard, finally losing his footing and hitting the dirt on his back in a heap. Impressively, he hadn’t even slid to a full stop when he twisted up onto his knees and jumped to his feet -- only for Riku to hit him again and send him rolling. Again Vanitas recovered and jumped up, again Riku was on him, again there was a clash of steel and then Riku lashed out, this time striking at Vanitas’ Key hand--

\--and _there_ , finally, his fingers gave just enough and his Keyblade was knocked from his grasp--

So why was Vanitas grinning?

There was a flash of light in his left hand. Expecting a spell, Riku swiftly brought his own free hand around and called up more of his darkness. He could cast quickly enough to neutralize Vanitas’ spell, or at least deter it--

Except Vanitas wasn’t attacking with magic.

By the time Riku recognized it, Vanitas had finished the summoning. A Keyblade -- a _second_ Keyblade? -- slashed in a hard arc, ripping across Riku’s left hip up to his right shoulder. He staggered backwards, a thick splatter of blood filling the air between them, and only just managed to parry a follow-up thrust. The movement was weak, however, and Vanitas had no problem in blowing through it, ducking underneath a swing and driving his shoulder hard into Riku’s wounded chest.

Agony swelled as Riku stumbled, firing off the darkness in his fingers. It struck Vanitas’ shoulder, but did little more than slow him down as he closed in. The gash in Riku’s torso flared, tightening up every nerve as he tried to move -- slowly, _too slowly_ , he wouldn’t block in time--

\--but Vanitas snaked around to his left instead in a hard spin. A nimble twist of his fingers switched his grip so that he wielded backhand, the Keyblade’s teeth dragging deep across Riku’s side. The razor sharp edge tore a new wound as far as his lower back, but the real danger was in how it managed to send him stumbling aside, where pain and fatigue were just enough to push him to his knees. He immediately tried to stand, but Vanitas slammed a foot down on Way to the Dawn, pinning it, and set his new Keyblade against Riku’s neck. Except for his panting, Riku froze.

“Where’d you get that?” he demanded. He didn’t risk looking over, but in the corner of his eye that Keyblade shone a dazzling white. He couldn’t have drawn the thing from memory, but he’d seen it enough lately that it was familiar -- and he knew whose it was.

“If you recognize it, you know full well where I got it from.” Vanitas tilted his head thoughtfully, his own Keyblade returning to his right hand in a dark shimmer. “Looks like Ventus and Terra finished their fight.”

Hot blood ran down Riku’s chest and sides, each of his wounds pulsing painfully with his rapid heartbeat. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t bleed out if they weren’t treated right away, but he doubted Vanitas would wait that long. Stalling for time, he challenged, “If you really think Terra took a beating lying down, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Hmph. He’s got another fan already?” Still keeping his weight on Riku’s Keyblade, Vanitas moved to stand directly in front of him. Riku couldn’t crane his neck that far, so he watched his shadow for movement. “I admit, I’m surprised. He did fight back. But even if he’s alive, I’m sure Ventus did a good job wearing him down. That’s good enough.”

Vanitas moved. Riku forced his head up in time to see the darker of the two Keyblades bearing down on him in a lethal blow -- and he hastily cast Magic Barrier around himself. At the very last second it solidified, only just slipping between his temple and the attacking Keyblade, which bounced off. Vanitas was knocked back by the impact, angry surprise slipping onto his face as he lost his hold on Way to the Dawn. Riku remained on his knees and quickly dismissed the barrier -- and as he did, he redirected his will and pain into the pit of his heart, down to where that enormous mass of eager, dangerous energy was always, always waiting--

\--and as the barrier dissolved, darkness exploded outward from it in a roar. Vanitas was quick, leaping backwards before it could touch him and landing safely out of range. Again, he looked borderline, grudgingly impressed. “And I thought _Terra_ had a lot to hide.”

Riku cast Curaga over himself as he climbed to his feet, resisting a wince as the effort grated on his dwindling energy. It closed most of his injuries, but they still throbbed and added every second to his fatigue. “Y’know -- considering how much you hate Ventus, it sounds to me like you respect him. At least a little.”

Vanitas’ head twitched so sharply that it had to have been an involuntary reaction, his face once more impassive. “Your _point?”_ He blurred, appearing before Riku in a heartbeat and driving both Keyblades down in a heavy swing. Riku blocked it, nearly buckled under the force, and with one blade preoccupying the stalemate, Vanitas withdrew the other and slashed. Again Riku fell back, a fresh cut across his chest threatening to reopen the one he’d just healed.

Vanitas was leaving him no breathing room. He had barely finished that swing when he reversed his hold a second time and brought it back down, raking the Keyblade’s teeth across Riku’s torso.

The pain was terrible, scraping out what little breath Riku still had in his lungs right then. With no other choice, he shoved out of the stalemate, forcing Vanitas back a few steps -- but his opponent was ready for the swift casting of fire that followed, crossing both Keyblades in front of himself to repel the spell and then lunging forward through the fading flames. Riku avoided a follow-up strike -- barely -- and fell back as quick as he was able. He no longer had to _try_ drawing from his darkness; the shock of his pain and the desperate exhaustion in every muscle had power coursing through him like adrenaline. It kept him a little faster, a little stronger than he would have been without it, and right then it made all the difference between avoiding those swift slashes and being cut down where he stood.

Although he now had two weapons, Vanitas didn’t fight like Roxas. As hasty as his actions were, he was still coolly calculating where Roxas had been reckless; he chose effective precision over emotional brutality. Even now, desperate and in a hurry, Vanitas was careful. Even cornered, he was dangerous.

It was the same, Riku realized suddenly: the exact same eerily calm and cutthroat proficiency that Xehanort’s younger incarnation had always exuded.

Riku knocked one swing aside and twisted to dodge another, wincing and biting back a sound of pain with each movement. It seemed all he could do now was stall, but between his fatigue and Vanitas’ lack of it…

_Don’t think. Just keep moving._

He avoided another double-swing, predicted Vanitas’ swift follow-up maneuver, and countered with another blast of darkness to gain some space. Vanitas stumbled, caught himself easily, and turned on a dime to come at him again -- and then suddenly stopped dead, eyes widening for an instant before his face contorted with pain. He backpedaled instead, his breath leaving him in a choke as he nearly folded over.

_Again?_ Even as the realization hit him, Riku began to assess their positions and figure out how he could use the advantage -- but then Vanitas collapsed heavily in place, hitting his knees and then his hands with a long cry. It wasn’t just a startled sound of pain; it was deeper than that, a burning and angry scream of agony. Ventus’ Keyblade disappeared from his left hand, but his right gripped his own weapon so hard that it shook. His entire body was trembling, his breath coming hard and fast as though he couldn’t swallow air fast enough. His fingers moved to grasp at his chest as if the source of his torment were inside and he hoped to rip it out.

The opening was there, but Riku hesitated. This wasn’t like before, a simple injury. And if Vanitas was going through this--

Chancing a glance over his shoulder, Riku searched the horizon. No sign of Terra or Ventus yet. He looked back at Vanitas. Was there any reason to stay? If the others needed his help, now was his chance.

Riku took it. He spun on his heel and took off as fast as he was able in the other direction--

\--and had barely taken two painful steps when there was a dark flicker on either side of his vision. He slid to a stop as two long shadows slithered rapidly along the ground to meet in front of him, black smoke rising along what was now a tight semicircle. As he watched, the shadow expanded and several shapes rose out of it: small silhouettes, animalistic and all fours. The shadow melted away from their bodies to reveal blue fur, red eyes, and he found himself staring down a dozen identical creatures that he had never seen before.

_Not Heartless. Nightmares? No--_ They didn’t feel like Dream Eaters. They watched him intently, long limbs and pointed heads twitching in irritation.

_“I’m not done with you yet.”_

Riku looked back. Vanitas remained on his knees, one hand still on his Keyblade and another still over his heart, but he’d raised his head enough to fix Riku with an indignant, narrow glare. His face was pale with pain.

“You… These things come from you?” How many tricks did this guy _have?_

The creatures scurried closer and Riku quickly turned in place. He needed to decide, and fast: stay and try to finish this battle, banking his chances on Vanitas’ sudden weakness, or fight through the creatures to go after Terra?

He stole a glimpse at Vanitas, hoping to gauge his potential for fighting right then. Two of the creatures stood on either side of him like guards.

_...That’s it._

That was the answer: in playing what was hopefully his last hand, Vanitas had simultaneously shown his weakness. The creatures came from him -- but he himself was vulnerable. If something should happen to _him_ , there was a chance the creatures would disappear at best, or all turn on Riku at the worst. And considering he was a marked target either way…

Riku dashed towards Vanitas. He saw the surprise on his opponent’s face -- it was clearly the last maneuver he had expected -- but the creatures were fast, either obeying some silent command instantaneously or simply conditioned to protect their master at the first sign of danger. The two flanking Vanitas slithered forward, almost too fast to follow in their liquid movements -- but they weren’t fast enough, not on their own, and Riku cut them out of the air without slowing. They disappeared in wisps of dark smoke.

He could sense the rest of the group catching up to him, but he didn’t look back. His focus was locked on Vanitas, who still hadn’t managed to move from his crouch. Without wasting a second, Riku swung once he was within range and aimed the flat side of his blade at Vanitas’ head--

But again Vanitas surprised him. Again Vanitas moved, jerking back just far enough that the blow whistled narrowly past his head. Strong fingers snatched Riku’s wrist, forced it down, as Vanitas lunged forward and slashed his Keyblade up and across Riku’s throat.

For an instant Riku was stunned, expecting to collapse, to feel his life leak out through that lethal wound, for darkness and death to take him there -- but in the next instant he was still standing, somehow, still breathing. It _hurt_ , but he was alive, and he needed nothing more than that simple fact to dismiss his Keyblade from his right hand, resummon it in his left, and flip it around to drive the hilt hard into Vanitas’ temple.

The grip on his wrist fell away and Vanitas dropped, crumpling onto his side with a weak snarl. He groped again at his chest, his breathing still labored, but the tension in his shoulders was the shuddering, agonized kind. He had no surprise attacks left.

Riku pointed his Keyblade at Vanitas’ head regardless, standing over him as he tossed a quick look around. Light trails of shadow were the only remains of the creatures.

Touching carefully at his throat, he found more blood than he’d thought. As savage as the blow had been, it had only sliced superficially across the front of his neck. His collarbone seemed to have taken the brunt of the damage; but had the distance between Vanitas and himself been any less, he didn’t doubt it would have killed him.

He stared down at Vanitas, panting just as harshly as he was. So much darkness. So much hatred, so much disregard for life, so much white-knuckled desperation to survive by any means necessary.

He was the opposite of Sora. And yet…

“Tell me something,” said Riku quietly. Although it was a statement, it wasn’t a demand. “How is it you’ve been around Ventus so much… but you’re still like this?”

Vanitas hissed softly between his teeth, the corner of his mouth quirking in a sharp smile. “You’ve noticed, too, huh.” His voice was strained. “Just a ball of sunshine, isn’t he?”

“He’s a lot like Sora,” said Riku, ignoring the sarcasm. “Same kind of light. Same spirit. And you know... I wasn’t all that different from you, once.” Slowly, Vanitas’ piercing eyes turned to look up at him as his smile faded. “I let my nature consume me. I was controlled by it, rather than the other way around. And it was Sora -- it was that light and spirit that brought me back. So... pure darkness or not, I think you might have felt the same thing from Ventus.”

Again Vanitas hissed, but it was harsher, more of a spit this time. “And what makes you say that?”

“Because that was light I felt in you just now.”

Vanitas’ fingers twitched, tightening around his hilt and then loosening again. That was the only indication of his surprise.

_Light._ The word made Vanitas want to sneer; the implication made him want to laugh. He did neither, instead turning his eyes from Riku to stare at the horizon in the distance.

Vanitas wasn’t that old, not really. Four conscious years after being split from Ventus, the first few months of which were hazy in his memory, on top of some broken recollections of Ventus’ early life, technically defined his age. After being defeated in the Graveyard the first time, he’d spent the next twelve years in an essentially dead state before his Master brought him back; by strict definition, he was more or less five years old.

Regardless of that little time -- or perhaps because of it -- Vanitas had a thorough, innate, and confident understanding of himself. He knew what emotions he was capable of, even if he had no names for some of them, just as he knew which were beyond his capability, assuming he even cared to try (love, for instance, as he had told Ventus before). He knew how to control them, a necessity given the nature of the Unversed; Xehanort wasn’t about to risk Vanitas birthing stray emotions at the drop of a hat, after all.

That was where self-control came in. That was why Vanitas strove to be and _was_ everything Ventus wasn’t -- collected, cold, indifferent, disciplined. He knew himself. He knew exactly what he was, how he worked, his nature and capabilities and limitations. While Aqua and the others scratched their heads at his motives and wondered how to solve this problem through force, while Ventus was slowly learning more and catching on (and getting ideas, _stupid_ ideas, it was obvious), Vanitas was a mystery to everybody but himself.

That was why he’d known something was off the second he woke up in this illusion. His body was fine; he still had the advantage of being virtually tireless, and it seemed to apply to his magic, too. His mind was clear, as well, unaffected by whatever had a hold of Ventus.

But there was something else. Something inside.

He had dismissed the strange sensations at first -- a cold pang, a skipped beat firm enough to cause a hitch in his breathing -- and assumed that he was getting some spillover from Ventus again. But from what little he _could_ feel from his other half, it quickly became clear that the occurrences didn’t match up. The strange throbs in Vanitas’ chest, the unfamiliar flickers of shadow across his mind that always followed -- they weren’t from Ventus.

When he first recognized Terra’s presence here in their heart -- it had inexplicably hurt somewhere deep inside.

When Riku’s expression had gone briefly blank with shock at seeing Vanitas’ face -- even as Vanitas acted on the opening, something in the back of his mind objected.

When he sensed Ventus struggling to regain control of himself, and fail, his cold satisfaction was tempered with a nagging feeling of uncertainty.

Vanitas may have been negativity incarnate, but he wasn’t an idiot.

It was as though he suddenly had a conscience.

That might have been too strong a word. It was nothing to make him hesitate, or regret, or anything so stupid, but it was _there_ , noticeable and annoying all the same. Even if it wasn’t Ventus’, it was still a result of their connection somehow, that much was clear. And it was apparently obvious enough that even Riku had noticed. It had shown through as _light._

Vanitas chuckled, the sound dry and tired and bitter. His eyes rolled lazily in Riku’s direction once more, utterly indifferent to the blade hovering two inches from his nose. “So. What. Gonna tell me I should change my ways? Follow the light like everybody else?” His chest throbbed again, but his pride kept his expression still. While it didn’t hurt as much as before, the pain in his heart was intense and crippling nonetheless; and unlike before, he couldn’t guess a reason for it, or why it had seized him at the absolute worst possible time.

Riku held his gaze. There was no anger in those blue-green eyes, no hint that he desired to pay Vanitas back for all his injuries and insults. For somebody so immersed in darkness, it was admittedly impressive. “I could,” he said lightly. “But we both know my opinion doesn’t mean a thing to you.”

“Heh. A lost cause, after all?”

Riku’s Keyblade didn’t budge, but there was something patient about him in the way he spoke next. Sympathetic. “Nobody’s ever too far gone. You just need the right person to get through to you.”

For a long moment they regarded one another in silence, both expressions unreadable. Then Vanitas’ heart clenched again, making him cringe, at the same time that he noticed movement behind Riku.

Terra was approaching -- Terra was _alive_ , Vanitas noted with a silent scowl -- and carting Ventus on his back, but he slid to a hard halt only just within conversational range, startled recognition in his expression as he took in Vanitas’ face. If he had any obvious commentary to make, it was cut off as he and Ventus noticed Riku -- and the state he was in. Terra’s face darkened, a blend of threatening anger and concern, and Ventus--

\--Ventus looked dumbfounded. He stared at Riku, wide eyes taking in the blood and bruises that were far worse than his own, and then quickly turned to Vanitas, who expected the usual righteous fury and short temper.

But Ventus only stared.

“Riku--” Terra broke the stiff silence as he crouched, sliding Ventus off and onto his own feet.

“I’m alright,” Riku assured him. “Looks worse than it is. I’ll be fine once we’re out of here.”

Vanitas heard the exchange, but it was all background noise -- because his attention was fixed on Ventus, who was still staring at him strangely. Once, Vanitas probably would have met that look with a cold smile, oozing arrogance and a twisted sense of satisfaction at having shocked Ventus out of his childish naivete. But although he was still arrogant, although he did get some dark pleasure from the negativity flaring up in Ventus’ heart right then, Vanitas settled his expression into one that, he would later realize, might have actually been more insulting:

Apathy.

He could read the disappointment, the shock, the worry, the flicker of anger on Ventus’ face just as clearly as he could sense it in his heart -- and truth be told, Vanitas was confused by it. The anger and worry he understood, but those other emotions… Ventus was hardly a child anymore. He’d been through grueling battles, fought for his life numerous times, even survived a war. Why was he so surprised that Vanitas would fight tooth and nail -- especially when only recently he himself had been subjected to some brief torment at Vanitas’ hands?

It made no sense. He had no reason to expect anything different.

“What,” Vanitas grunted. _Are you really_ that _surprised? You of all people should know exactly what I am._ He didn’t speak the words, but he didn’t have to. The chilling indifference in his face and voice spoke plenty, judging by the way Ventus finally looked away with a frown. In that same moment, the pressure in Vanitas’ chest suddenly let up.

It looked like a coincidence. Vanitas knew better.

“...Vanitas--” Ventus started to step forward, but stumbled, favoring his right leg. Terra caught him as Vanitas arched an eyebrow, taking in the older man with a new measure of almost-respect. He had of course picked up on those injuries, but in the heat of the moment and under the boost of adrenaline he hadn’t realized how bad they really were. On Ventus, especially, his fatigue looked almost brutal, and at this range Vanitas could sense how hard his other half was working to hide his pain.

Something flickered through Vanitas’ mind, too fast to make out, and sent a slight spike of uncomfortable… warmth? down into his heart. He knew a full range of negative emotions, but it didn’t match up with any of them. What was that?

Ventus appeared to collect himself. He stepped out from Terra’s support, shakily, but kept a hand on his friend’s arm. “Vanitas -- it’s over,” he panted. Slowly, he let go of Terra and took a weak step forward on his own. His eyes were locked on Vanitas, his expression earnest. “No more fighting.”

No more fighting? There it was -- proof that Ventus still didn’t understand him half as well as he liked to pretend.

In the corner of his eye, Vanitas saw Riku glance at Terra. Just a glance, probably intended to last no more than a second.

With that crippling pain gone, a second was more than enough.

His intention mustn’t have been as subtle as he thought, because he felt Ventus tense. No matter. Vanitas twisted away from Riku, flipping up onto one knee, shoving off of it, and lunging forward all in a quarter of a second. If he could kill Riku, Ventus was too weak to be a threat and then he could deal with Terra--

\--except that suddenly Ventus was _there_ , impossibly fast in spite of his injuries. For an instant Vanitas almost panicked, wary of stabbing Ventus instead and killing them both -- but Ventus snatched his wrist and redirected the attacking Keyblade up and over his shoulder, narrowly protecting both himself and Riku. Vanitas collided with him, his momentum knocking the breath out of them both, and it took him a full second and a half to realize Ventus’ Keyblade was at his throat.

Grinning slowly, he turned to catch Ventus’ eye with the intention of _daring_ him to try it. He fully expected to see anger on that face, the same defensive rage as usual -- but to his surprise, Ventus’ expression was utterly calm. No glare, no frown, nothing. It wasn’t just calm, Vanitas quickly realized. It was apathy. Cold indifference, a sharp contrast to the emotional spectrum that always played across that otherwise expressive face.

That look… it wasn’t Ventus. Vanitas saw _himself_ in that chilly stare. Combined with the steel teeth pressing against the pulse in his neck, the look was an open statement: Ventus had been naive and far too trusting in letting his guard down around Vanitas when they were alone, but he wouldn’t take that risk now. Not when he had people to protect.

Truly this time, Vanitas had lost.

Terra and Riku stood close, both armed now, but Vanitas didn’t spare them a glance. He only held Ventus’ stare, giving no hint of how uncomfortable he actually was in this vulnerable position. He could hear Ventus panting heavily under his breath, could feel the sore aftereffects of the agony those movements had cost him. He could feel the way their rapid heartbeats remained in rhythm.

“It’s over,” Ventus repeated. “This isn’t worth dying for. Just… stop.” It didn’t sound like an order. It just sounded tired.

“Isn’t it?” Vanitas asked. His tone was level but filled with venom, his smile gone. “You, who’ve always lived in your stupid little world and had everything handed to you like some kind of pet bird, never knowing any better -- how could you know what it’s _like_ ,” he spat, “to lose everything?”

“You haven’t lost everything. Not yet.” It was so matter-of-fact that Vanitas frowned slightly, suspicious. “But you can’t beat all of us. It’s over,” Ventus repeated.

No, it wasn’t. Not yet.

But Vanitas knew a disadvantage when he saw one. Trying anything else would be pointless. Even so… he had one more chance. One other opportunity that he couldn’t afford to waste -- which meant surrendering this one, as reluctant as he was to take such a narrow risk.

It went against every instinct of his, but after a moment more Vanitas dismissed his weapon. “Fine,” he said dryly. Ventus’ grip loosened and Vanitas withdrew instantly, resisting the urge to frown at the way Ventus’ body heat lingered on him. It was a weird, unfamiliar sensation. He didn’t like it.

The other two remained tensed and watching him. Terra quickly moved to help steady Ventus, meeting Vanitas’ gaze in a silent warning -- but the look Vanitas gave him wasn’t as dismissive as it once would have been. Nor as hostile. “Looks like I was wrong,” Vanitas commented. “You’ve got what it takes to hurt somebody close to you, after all.”

* * *

With the worst seemingly over, Ven’s next objective seemed clear. He needed to speak with his Master, see if some favorable solution couldn’t be found for everybody. It would be more difficult in light of Vanitas’ betrayal, but if he was going to be held captive in the Land of Departure anyway, it was worth trying to reason with him.

So that was the plan: wake up, let everybody see that he and Terra and Riku were all right, and keep an eye on Vanitas while mediating between him and Eraqus. Simple enough.

So Ven thought, until he awoke to the sounds of fighting.

He stirred and found himself on the floor of the grand hall, his head and chest throbbing lightly. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the bright lighting, but even before then, he could tell something was wrong. There was too much movement -- too many shapes flitting about the room. Lifting his head, he shook it and squinted and tried to focus, and then what he saw instantly jarred him awake completely.

_“Unversed?”_ The question went unheard by anybody else. He quickly noticed Aqua amid the throng -- Mickey close beside her, Riku farther over, and then Terra -- all armed, all fighting against the creatures that had them easily outnumbered ten to one.

_Vanitas._

It wasn’t concern that brought the name to mind, but distrust. Even as Ven thought it, he felt on the edge of his mind a touch of uncertainty, confusion, surprise. He followed the tug and looked around as quick as he was able, scanning the chaos -- and found Vanitas on the far end of the room. He was on his hands and knees, still shaking himself awake as he also took in the state of the room.

And then as if prompted by a cue, he suddenly turned his head a sharp ninety degrees and squarely met Ven’s gaze. For a moment they held one another’s stare.

_Don’t._ The thought was a kneejerk reaction. Ven had no idea if Vanitas could read it that clearly, but hopefully he would at least pick up on the emotion tied to it. _Don’t do it. Don’t run--_

Something large bore down on Ven from the right. He reflexively kicked himself away and into a roll, coming up onto his knees and then leaping unsteadily to his feet. His Keyblade appeared in his hand with a snap as the Unversed made another leap at him; Ven sidestepped, slipped behind it in the same motion, and with two swift slashes disposed of it. The injuries and fatigue from his fight with Terra were gone, thankfully, but their scars remained as exhaustion that he had yet to shake.

He looked back at Vanitas -- who was gone. Tensing, Ven took off at a run in that direction regardless.

_But first, I’ve got a message from the Master. Something you need to know._

_The Master?_

_When we get out of here -- if Vanitas tries to run, we need to stop him. But we’ll need your help to do it._

There. Vanitas was heading for the stairs at a full sprint -- no, there was a tall black portal at the top of the staircase. He was going to slip into the Corridor and escape, and at this distance there was no way Ven could stop him in time.

“Vanitas!” He was ignored, of course.

Suddenly there was a bright flash of movement and something -- somebody appeared between Vanitas and the portal, Keyblade raised--

_Aqua!_ The flicker of gratitude Ven felt quickly melted away into dread -- because even from here he saw it, the shock in Aqua’s expression as she took in Vanitas’ face. In an instant Vanitas took advantage of it, summoning his Keyblade and drawing it back over his shoulder as he darted in low -- but she recovered just in time, parrying the slash with a glancing strike of her own. He had still surprised her, however, and outmatching her in raw strength he managed to knock her weapon aside and break her defense.

Ven was bolting towards them, but not fast enough. Vanitas intended to strike her down, to plow over her by whatever means necessary and escape. Sliding to a halt, Ven took aim and prepared to throw his Keyblade instead -- but a high, metallic sound in his left ear stopped him, and a flash of light zipped right by his cheek and startled him into stepping sideways. But the light didn’t just pass -- it was a streak of gold that hung in the air, seemingly tangible. As Ven’s eyes quickly adjusted to the glare, he realized that it wasn’t a ray of light, but a very solid chain that gave off a bright glow.

He looked right. The far end of the chain had coiled solidly around Vanitas’ forearm, stopping his attack midway. Before Ven could try to look left for the source, a white shape blurred past him, barreling towards Vanitas, who abandoned his attempt on Aqua and leaped back. The chain held tight, however, and quickly went rigid as he reached the end of what little slack he’d been given.

Eraqus stood on the other end, his expression calmly grim. The golden links were connected to the tip of his Keyblade that he held firmly in both hands. He and Vanitas locked gazes, determined authority meeting bristling hostility. Despite the lack of words, the meaning was clear: it was Vanitas’ last chance to surrender peacefully.

The atmosphere in the room seemed to shift. As Ven looked around, he saw all the Unversed suddenly halt and turn towards Vanitas. In an instant they all acted as one and surged towards him -- and Eraqus.

Ven’s cry of warning was drowned out by Terra’s louder, deeper voice somewhere further back. _“Protect Master Eraqus!_ Don’t let them near him!” The other half of the room responded with immediate action, each Keyblade wielder turning on the spot to pursue the wave of creatures.

Aqua was closest and quickly conjured a translucent wall of magic beside Eraqus, who didn’t so much as budge when a dozen dark bodies slammed into it a moment later. The Unversed crowded together so quickly that Ven soon lost sight of all three wielders, snapping him back to the present. He hurried forward, vaguely aware of Mickey falling into step beside him, and dived into the closest Unversed with an Aeroga to send a dozen of them flying.

It was like that everywhere. Cries and spells and dark smoke filled the air as Unversed were struck down, but there were more of them than Ven had realized. He caught glimpses of the others -- Terra, Riku, Mickey, all fighting, all still okay -- but when he tried to steal a glance at where he’d last seen Eraqus, he saw nobody.

“Ven!” The call was close. Killing four of the smaller Unversed with a single slash, he quickly fell back and looked over his shoulder, relieved to see Aqua draw up beside him. She appeared unharmed. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, but where are--” Even as he said it, movement caught his eye above the chaos. He turned, but saw nothing.

“There!” Aqua pointed and Ven followed the gesture, but even then he nearly missed it a second time, because Vanitas and Eraqus were a blur as they dashed around the throne room. Vanitas led the chase, leaping high to run along the wall for a few yards before shoving off of it and fleeing elsewhere, always with Eraqus close in pursuit.

Never before had Ven seen Vanitas pushed this far: he was entirely defensive, dodging blows and chains and even then only narrowly. His movements were rushed, clumsy, and he wasn’t even trying to fight back as much as stay away. Smaller Unversed would sometimes leap out of him if Eraqus drew too close, serving only as a fleeting distraction before they were cut down in a heartbeat. Ven couldn’t get a strong read on Vanitas’ emotions -- either he was stifling them, or their connection wasn’t as strong out here in the real world -- but when he focused, he definitely detected something that he’d never felt in Vanitas before.

Alarm. Stress. Unease. A heavy sense of reluctance and hatred. He had never desired nor intended to go up against Eraqus, and with good reason.

“Ven.” Aqua’s voice shook him out of his thoughts. “Did Terra talk to you?”

Ven frowned, but nodded sharply and tightened his grip on his Keyblade. He was so tired -- they both were, he needed no link with Vanitas to be able to tell -- but it was almost over. This was the only way, and any doubt he’d felt previously was smothered in light of the situation. Vanitas had been given several chances and rejected each of them. Ven hadn’t minded so much when that hostility and skepticism were directed at himself -- he could overlook that -- but Vanitas’ stubbornness had pulled everybody else into this, too. _That_ was the final straw.

“Yeah,” he replied promptly. “I know what to do.”

Aqua snapped her Keyblade into its usual position at her side, standing tall beside him. “Okay. As soon as you see an opening, go. I’ve got your back.”

Together they weaved through the mess of a battle, trying to stay close to Eraqus and Vanitas. True to her word, Aqua took care of blasting Unversed from their path so Ven could keep his eyes up and searching. It didn’t take long for him to notice that Vanitas was slowing down, shown in the way he relied more and more heavily on creating Unversed -- now as a shield rather than a diversion. As soon as that became obvious, the outcome of the battle was sealed.

Vanitas darted up the small staircase and back behind the thrones, leaping up onto the middle one, rebounding onto the wall, and kicking off of it to throw himself back towards the middle of the room. Eraqus, however, switched tactics. Upon reaching the thrones, he suddenly stopped, shifting his Keyblade to his left hand and slamming his right against the first chair. All three thrones surged with light -- and as Vanitas passed over them, there was again the sound of metal clinking, but much louder. From the arm of each chair erupted a flash of gold and in the blink of an eye they collided with Vanitas in midair, bright chains wrapping tight around his shoulders, his arms, his middle. His momentum ceased. He fell to the marble floor with a grunt, but even that hard impact couldn’t break his grip on his Keyblade.

_“Ventus!”_

“Ven! Now!”

Ven was already moving, leaping up the stairs and spinning his own Keyblade around to a forward grip. Even bound, Vanitas was still fighting and managed to sit up partway, but Ven crashed into him and knocked him onto his back. All but sitting on Vanitas’ stomach, Ven threw an arm across his neck to keep him pinned and set the tip of his Keyblade against Vanitas’ chest, just over his heart.

Again he felt that unfamiliar, uncharacteristic flicker of not-fear as Vanitas fixed him with a hard but uncertain look. “What are you _doing?_ ” he demanded. Ven ignored him, just like he ignored the small voice in the back of his head that still objected to this.

_There’s no choice. No other way._

He quickly recalled Terra’s words, the brief but complex instructions passed from Eraqus: _It’s essentially a reverse ceremony. You need to call that power back to you. Even though it’s his now, it used to be yours. You should be able to reach out and find it._

In the corner of his vision Ven caught glimpses of the others, united at the bottom of the stairs against whatever Unversed remained. He closed his eyes, shutting out the sights and the noise and concentrating.

_It’s a lot like summoning your Keyblade. You’ll need to find it and take it._

“Ventus!” Vanitas snarled, but the threat carried no weight.

Ven called to mind everything he could think of about Vanitas -- not him personally, but the way he felt. The jarring sting of their Keyblades clashing, the bottomless negativity that thundered under his collected exterior, the uncomfortable brush of his every emotion that had become unnervingly natural in the last couple days -- but he needed to go _deeper_ than that. He needed to know what it was like to be at Vanitas’ core. His heart.

So he recalled the way it felt when their hearts united, an overwhelming sensation that was both suffocating and calming, painful and pleasant, cold and warm, familiar but new every time. As much as he’d tried to forget it before, he forced himself to remember that split second -- it happened every time -- when the line between Vanitas and himself was so blurred that he actually couldn’t tell one apart from the other. There was always a heartbeat in which Ven didn’t know whom he was and whom he wasn’t, a point where emotion and memory and _identity_ overlapped so closely that the two of them really were the same person again. But only for that heartbeat, and then it would be over, and Ven was left feeling shaken and frightened by it and pretending that he wasn’t.

It was the closest he’d ever been to Vanitas without being _truly_ one as they used to be. He held that feeling in his mind, gripped his hilt tight, and imagined Vanitas’ Keyblade. He had never looked very closely at it, but he discovered that he could picture all the finer details regardless.

_Call it back._

He felt Vanitas thrash against him, but dimly.

_Call it back._

He didn’t know the Keyblade’s name, either -- Ven never asked, Vanitas never shared -- but right then he heard, or felt, the echo of words low in his mind, barely audible beneath the sounds of battle close by.

_Void Gear._

That was it.

Even as Ven locked onto the name, he felt Vanitas go rigid underneath him -- and then he jerked again, harder, as though having realized what Ven was trying to do. Maybe he had. Either way, Ven wasn’t turning back. Stilling Vanitas’ struggles and tuning out his hisses and growls, he focused on Void Gear’s name, its appearance, picturing what it would feel like to wield it and finding that he already knew, somehow. He knew how heavy it was, the way the chains rattled with every motion, how swinging it side-to-side required two hands unless he was moving with it, what its worn hilt felt like between his gloved fingers.

_“Ventus!”_ Vanitas roared. _“I’ll kill you--”_

Opening his eyes and meeting Vanitas’ deadly glare, Ven spoke Void Gear’s name. He called it.

And he felt it respond. At once there was a flicker of shadow beside them, tendrils of electricity enveloping the length of Vanitas’ Keyblade -- and then it disappeared, heedless of the death grip Vanitas still had on its hilt. In the same moment, steel rang on marble as an Unversed gave its death cry, and then silence fell throughout the room. Both battles were over.

For a few seconds both Ven and Vanitas remained still, holding one another’s gaze as their shoulders trembled -- one pair with exhaustion, the other with a quiet, defeated rage. Ven dismissed his Keyblade but still didn’t move or look away from Vanitas, even when Eraqus’ chains slowly retreated and faded away.

Ven felt… guilty. That almost emotional desperation beneath Vanitas’ threats and anger -- it had been unlike him, the most human he’d ever felt. Ven couldn’t say for sure, but he thought he might have also detected _fear_ during those last moments, a subdued feeling that ran deeper than he would ever have guessed. Was Vanitas that worried about being weaponless? Or did even he have at least one tie that he couldn’t bear to lose?

A Keyblade wasn’t just a weapon. It was part of a person, a part of his heart, an intimate connection that, normally, nobody else could ever infringe on.

And Ven had taken that away. Whatever Vanitas called himself at the end of the day, that act still felt wrong -- it was treating him as less than human, almost.

“Vanitas--” Ven glanced back and forth between those piercing eyes, almost hoping to see a hint of what he suspected -- hurt, grief, sadness, anything that would confirm what he had started to believe before now. “I’m…”

“Save it.” Vanitas’ tone was even more deadpan than usual, if possible. Catching Ven’s shoulder, he shoved him to the side and sat up. “Congratulations,” he added, “you’re almost as merciless as I am.”

The others were watching them, still with Keyblades out. Ven paid them no mind. “Vanitas, listen -- it doesn’t have to end like this.” Vanitas cocked an eyebrow, but didn’t look at him. “I think -- you could change,” Ven insisted. “I know there’s more to you now -- I felt it. Just prove it and I’m sure you can get your Keyblade back--”

Vanitas grinned a slow, forced grin. “ _I’m_ sure Riku will tell you why that’s not a good idea. Besides--” His grip on Ven’s shoulder tightened painfully, and Ven belatedly considered how odd it was that Vanitas was continuing to touch him.

No. Not just _odd_. Vanitas didn’t touch him without reason. And speaking of pain -- now that Ven thought about it, he hadn’t felt it when Vanitas hit the floor earlier. Which meant...

By the time that thought hit him, Vanitas twisted, the light of a Keyblade enveloping his _left_ hand--

Ven felt his body shudder as a hard impact shook his core.

_“Ven!!”_ Aqua’s broken scream.

Slowly, dazed, he looked down. At first he didn’t understand what he was seeing -- then it hit him. He was staring at the shaft of his own Keyblade protruding from his stomach.

In his ear, Vanitas hissed, “--Aqua was right. I can always _trust you.”_ Vanitas leaped up and backwards, wrenching the Keyblade free. Agony erupted like fire in Ven’s chest, back, _everywhere_ , and it sapped what little energy he had left. In that instant, however, their gazes locked again, and even through his stunned stupor Ven saw it -- not sadness, not regret, nothing so positive, but something different on Vanitas’ face, something other than cruel amusement or hateful satisfaction. It was a neutral, closed off look, which really wasn’t much better. But it was something.

Then it was over. Ven hit the floor without a fight, dimly aware of the scarlet already pooling underneath him.

Another scream. Running footsteps. Somebody’s hand on his back, a voice, garbled words, a distant sensation of dark energy--

The room darkened. The pain began to fade. His eyes became impossible to hold open.

And yet, underneath all that chaos both inside and out, Ven picked up on one thing loud and clear: he felt it the second Vanitas’ presence, and that of his Keyblade, disappeared. He’d left this world. He’d escaped.

And in that moment Ven couldn’t have honestly said that he blamed him. For any of this.

The room and all its noise faded, and then he knew no more.


	10. Unbreakable

“Roxas!”

Breaking from his thoughts, Roxas dragged his stare away from the two-story building and looked further up the street. Xion had already outstripped him and was waving him over with her free hand, the other balancing a cardboard box on her hip. He broke into a jog to catch up, mindful of the couple packages that he also carried.

“Everything okay?” she wondered. He nodded, backing the gesture up with a smile.

“Yeah. Still getting used to the idea, I guess.”

“Mm. Me, too.” They looked up together this time, specifically at the second floor. The walkway was lined with front doors in various levels of decor -- some boasted bright flowerpots, others decorative flags, one a cheerfully painted “WELCOME :)” sign -- but the last one on the row was bare. After scaling the tall staircase with ease, it was this door that they made a beeline for. Roxas discovered that Lea had left it unlocked, as promised, so they went right inside.

The apartment was small, but comfortably so. Pale yellow walls and grey carpet began in the living room, continuing into the small dining nook in the opposite corner and running into the adjacent hallway. It was completely empty, devoid of even staples like furniture. The space added a slight echo to their movements as the two of them walked through to investigate.

Two bedrooms, a kitchen, a bathroom, a tiny attic, and a back deck overlooking the park. Altogether, the whole place was smaller than the Grey Area had been, Roxas estimated. In his mind that was plenty of space for three people, especially three best friends who wouldn’t mind sharing.

“I really like it.” Xion’s remark sounded mild, but there was a warm smile on her face as she looked around.

They set their boxes down in the living room and began unpacking them. Inside they found diningware, a wall-mounted cuckoo-clock, a handful of common tools, and a few other practical items. Xion carefully lifted a small lamp from her own box, its stained-glass lampshade catching the twilight sun and casting bright flecks of color across the wall. Noticing her admiration, Roxas told her, “That one’s from Olette.”

“It’s so pretty.” She set it on the carpet and plugged it into an outlet. Despite its size, the lamp easily lit up most of the room. Xion sat back and hugged her knees, looking over their small collection. “It was really nice of your friends to give us all this.”

“Yeah… I told ‘em I owed them, but they said not to worry about it. They’re housewarming gifts, and you don’t owe anything for that.” Or so Hayner had insistently proclaimed. If there was anything stranger than having made friends with them so quickly and easily -- the _real_ Hayner, Pence, and Olette, not their fabricated memories in his head -- it was finding that all three of them were just as he remembered. “They said they’d come help once we start getting big stuff, too.”

Xion covered her mouth, but couldn’t hide her quiet laugh. When Roxas questioned, she shook her head. “It’s nothing. It’s just… it’s kind of funny, what we’re doing. This is probably… really normal for most people, you know? But it feels so strange to me. It’s new.”

He did know. These days his memories of the Organization were much clearer and fuller than those from the fake Twilight Town, so he couldn’t help comparing everything to his time in the World That Never Was. Moving into their own place, doing what they wanted, answering to nobody… Normal things for the people here, sure, but it was an entirely new frontier for the two of them. Perhaps Lea, too.

Granted, they were still Keyblade Wielders at the end of the day, still possessed all the responsibilities that came with it… but that wasn’t _all_ they were. That wasn’t their only value. Not anymore. Hayner and the others didn’t care about that. Sora had made it clear that he would keep up with them, and Roxas knew he hadn’t seen the last of their other allies, either.

_And speaking of the others..._ It had been two days now since they heard anything. The thought made him frown.

“Roxas?” Xion tilted her head, concerned. “Something wrong?”

He shook his head. No need to worry her, not yet. He would give it one more day, and if no news came he’d ask Lea to take him to that world. Maybe there was something he could do to help. “No. But I know what you mean. It’s a little weird.” He climbed to his feet. “C’mon. Let’s figure out what we need to buy. We can start--”

The room suddenly went dark. He stumbled as his balance went awry, the air leaving his lungs fast enough to burn his throat, as though it had been forced out. His voice locked up in his chest. For an instant it was as if something invisible had coiled tightly around him, trapping and squeezing him from the inside out--

And then a sharp, deep, _cutting_ pain slammed into his chest, choking the last of his breath out of him. For a moment Roxas teetered in place, stunned and in too much agony to move -- and then his legs gave out, his knees hitting the floor hard enough to bruise. He barely felt it. He looked down through the stars swimming across his vision, expecting to surely see something protruding from his body, some obvious cause of his distress, but there was nothing.

“Roxas!”

He was vaguely aware of Xion moving to his side, but another spasm of pain seized him, worse than the last. He finally found his voice and cried out, pained and confused and frustrated -- but what started as a snarl ended in a wail, almost a sob, because out of nowhere a cold wave of sadness had suddenly gripped him tight, threatening to suffocate him even more than the pain.

Disappointment, regret, hurt, heartache, fear -- all things he recognized, all things he had felt at some point or another, but they weren’t his this time. He couldn’t have said how he knew, but something was very, _very_ wrong. This pain wasn’t his. These emotions weren’t his. The sudden smell of blood, strong and close, wasn’t his.

_Ven…!_

For an instant he thought it was Xion’s voice, but no -- it was older, a different pitch. Or had he imagined it?

“--at’s wrong? Roxas?”

He found Xion’s face, but his vision was hazy and quickly growing dark again. He tried to raise a hand, to reach for hers, to reassure her if nothing else -- but his heart throbbed, an odd sensation, and the rest of his energy vanished along with his consciousness. He hit the floor, his head landing on Xion’s knees, and felt one final thought flit across his mind before everything went dark.

_Ventus. Ventus is…_

* * *

_(“Terra.”_

_The castle doors had barely closed behind him when the solemn call stopped him in his tracks. He looked up to see Riku lingering in the foyer, hands at his sides and posture tense despite his neutral expression._

_“Riku? Hey.” Terra turned aside to tap his shoes against the doorway, shaking off the water. The Land of Departure had seen nothing but constant, heavy rain since last night. “What’re you doing here?” It was a genuinely curious inquiry. Riku was always welcome as far as Terra was concerned, but he should have gone home by now._

_Riku didn’t answer right away. Only once Terra had approached and stopped expectantly in front of him did Riku finally blurt, “I’m sorry. For what happened.” Terra blinked. Riku dropped his gaze. “I…”_

_“Don’t be.” Losing the easy tone, Terra’s voice turned serious and firm. The almost-cheer was gone from his face. “It’s nobody’s fault. Least of all yours.”_

_“No.” The objection was quiet. “I knew -- I knew Vanitas could access Ventus’ Keyblade. He did it when we fought. But I didn’t think -- I didn’t say anything. I should have. And I know it doesn’t mean anything now… but I apologize for that.” He lifted his eyes as he finished, a gesture Terra had to admire. It couldn’t be easy in his situation._

_For a moment neither of them said anything, Riku waiting patiently for some kind of backlash while Terra held his gaze with an equally neutral look. Finally, it was the latter who spoke._

_“Riku… thanks.”_

_That made Riku start slightly in surprise, blinking rapidly. “What?”_

_“I pulled you into a conflict that wasn’t yours to begin with. You took a leap of faith with me -- you fought so I could protect Ven. You risked a lot, and went up against somebody you never should’ve had to. I hope you can forgive me for putting you in harm’s way like that.”_

_“I -- No, it wasn’t--” Riku looked away again. “I would’ve helped no matter who it was.”_

_“Even so.” Terra gave a tired smile. “Without you, we wouldn’t even have come this far.” The look faded. “Besides… Vanitas pulled one over on all of us. We all made the mistake of underestimating him.”_

_As if the very name was enough to usher the grim atmosphere back into place, they both fell silent again for a few beats. “Well… if there’s anything I can do,” Riku implored, “just let me know.”_

_“You’ve done a lot for us already. You’ve earned some rest. Take it.”)_

The conversation was still weighing heavily on Riku’s mind when he dropped onto the familiar warm sand of Destiny Islands. It was always a bit of a shock for his system, going from the pitch-black Lanes to the sun-filled beach, the oppressive cold of the In-Between abruptly replaced by hot rays beating down on his head and shoulders.

For a moment he just stood there on the shore, breathing in the sea-salt air and listening to the startled calls of nearby gulls, the perpetual and soothing roll of the waves. Another day, another battle, another brush with death that left him with a renewed sense of gratitude for his small homeworld. He’d made it back, albeit narrowly.

He’d landed, intentionally, on the smaller island as he always did, but this time it wasn’t to avoid public alarm. This time he wanted a few moments to himself, to stop and address all the self-deprecating thoughts that still bounced around in his head.

If only he’d been faster. If only he’d said something. If only he’d taken his lengthy battle with Vanitas to heart and realized that he should never have let his guard down around him, _ever_ \--

If, if, if.

Riku closed his eyes, frowning. Ventus had known, hadn’t he? He’d been so quick to protect Riku from Vanitas, so on-point -- he must have known better than anybody how dangerous Vanitas was. And yet… even he had let his guard down there at the end, and surely not out of arrogance.

Why? What in Vanitas was worth trusting?

“ _Rikuuuuu!”_

“Huh?”

Had he been in a lighter mood, Riku would have quickly sidestepped the surprise attack -- but as things were, he lacked the heart, and only stopped to let Sora slam into his back with a laugh of greeting. “Hey, you’re back, too! Good timing!” Sora didn’t cling long, but quickly dropped back to the sand to swivel around in front of Riku and grin brightly up at him. A happy, eager grin, so unlike the cruelty that had twisted Vanitas’ identical face. “Over already, huh? How’d it go?”

It was obvious he expected nothing less than good news. Riku felt that guilty pressure build by a couple more pounds.

When he didn’t answer, Sora’s cheerful expression wavered, something that even the numerous cuts and bruises on his face and arms -- some old, some new -- hadn’t managed to accomplish. “Riku?”

“We got him out,” Riku replied finally, glancing aside at the water. “Vanitas. He escaped, though.”

“Oh.” Mistaking that for the source of Riku’s hesitation, Sora beamed again. “Well, hey, he’ll turn up sooner or later! Don’t worry about it. The important thing is that Ventus is okay, right?”

Riku didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at him. He heard Sora shift, made either antsy or uncomfortable or both by the silence. “Riku,” he repeated, a little more firmly. “He’s okay -- right?”

* * *

_Ven!!_

Aqua’s cry had been shrill and panicked, shattering like glass. So unlike her. Eraqus could still hear it when the silence was deep enough, just as the image of that scene would often come back unbidden when he closed his eyes.

Ventus falling lifelessly to the floor. That stunned split-second in which Vanitas was the only one moving. Everybody hurrying forward, half of them toward Vanitas, who had the audacity to cast a Thundaga spell in Ventus’ direction as he retreated. It was brash, ruthless -- and as a diversion, it worked. Terra shielded Ventus; Eraqus shielded Terra. Even as electricity popped along his arms and stung his face, he stood his ground while Vanitas wasted no time in bolting for another dark portal. Mickey sprang out of nowhere, but Vanitas sidestepped his swing and suffered only a glancing blow.

And then he was gone, and Ventus’ Keyblade with him.

“I was foolish,” said Eraqus quietly. Opening his eyes, he glanced at the star-filled window and tried to dispel the rest of that memory -- joining efforts with Terra and Aqua to cast a healing spell over Ventus, feeling his heartbeat waver and slow beneath their hands, all of which were already covered with his blood. Aqua doing her best to still her shaking shoulders. That spike of darkness flaring up in Terra’s heart, pitch-black and furious and brimming with anxious concern. “I was so intent on Vanitas’ Keyblade being the threat… No, even before that.” Eraqus shook his head, looking down at his hands with a deep sigh. “I asked too much of Ventus. Too soon.”

Across the table, Yen Sid hummed to himself, the sound thoughtful and grave. “You acted as the Master of that land should have done. The fact that you went to such lengths to spare Vanitas’ life proves that you were behaving justly, not rashly.”

“And in doing so, I traded one life for another.” Eraqus’ fingers tightened around his armrests for a moment, but then eased up along with the self-directed anger in his voice. “...Forgive me, old friend,” he sighed again as he lifted his head. “I am not here to dwell on my mistakes. This matter is not yet closed, and I would seek your opinion before I take action.”

“Ventus’ Keyblade,” Yen Sid guessed. Eraqus nodded. “Yes… As long as Vanitas remains in a separate world, it cannot be called back.”

“Yes. But how Vanitas was able to summon it to begin with…”

“There are many unknowns here. Never has there been a successful case of dividing a heart into its two halves; frankly, I am surprised that both Ventus and Vanitas are capable of such strict independence from one another. You know as well as I, Eraqus: the brighter the light, the deeper the shadow. Although they are hostile opposites, light and darkness always seek out one another, for good or ill.”

Eraqus thought on that for a long, still moment. “...This was not the first time they reunited,” he mused. “And yet something went awry. Vanitas wasn’t able to break away from Ventus -- no, it sounded as though he had never intended to possess him as much as use him. His heart was tied to the X-blade just as much as the other Darknesses and Lights, and he too sought shelter from its annihilation.” For all intents and purposes -- if Vanitas had spoken truthfully -- he had likely made contact with Ventus purely on the grounds of shielding one another from the X-blade’s destruction, probably with the intention of fleeing immediately after. Getting “stuck” in Ventus… That had never been his goal. “They could each assume control of their shared body, as well,” he continued, “and then Vanitas was able to summon Ventus’ Keyblade. If we assume he never possessed that ability before…”

“I also have trouble believing that Xehanort would have lacked foresight in such a crucial matter,” Yen Sid pointed out. “Vanitas was a very valuable piece to his plan -- not once, but twice. Losing him as a Keybearer is not a risk Xehanort would have taken. And if Vanitas was able to contend with you for as long as you say…”

“...It makes little sense for Xehanort not to have named him Master,” Eraqus finished. The same thought had occurred to him more than once. “And yet Ventus sealed his Keyblade. Going by the natural laws, that would prove Vanitas is still an apprentice… but the nature of their bond is questionable, and may well lie outside all laws.”

“Indeed.” Closing his eyes, Yen Sid stroked his beard in contemplation for nearly half a minute. “...I am afraid I have no easy answers, Eraqus. If you desire my counsel, it would be this: without question, reclaiming Ventus’ Keyblade is priority. But I advise against taking hostile action against Vanitas until we have better knowledge of his tie to Ventus.”

“You believe there may still be a link?”

The wizard hummed again. “...Only one can answer that now. Speak with him, when fate allows.”

* * *

Terra woke with a start. His mind buzzed with the unpleasant sensation of having only just dozed off, but he ignored the ache for deeper, more restful sleep and shook his head to clear it. He was exhausted both inside and out -- his body from the fatigue of so many battles lately, his mind from the lengthy heart dive, his heart from shock and grief -- but he was nothing if not stubborn, and only forced himself to sit up without the slightest outward sign of his reluctance to do so.

The room was virtually unchanged, the shadows of late afternoon painting the walls a different color than the last time he’d looked. It was still uncomfortably quiet, the air heavy despite the open door and window. One of two chairs in the room remained occupied.

“Hey,” Terra prompted gently.

Aqua blinked, the dull and faded look in her eyes vanishing as she turned to him. She seemed surprised to find him awake, although he knew there was no way she had missed such an obvious movement. She sat in the same position as before, hands clenched in her lap and shoulders sagging.

He didn’t ask if there had been a change. Her face answered that. “Come on, Aqua. Take a break,” he urged in the same tone. “You don’t need to push yourself like this.”

“I’m…” She didn’t finish the objection. She only dragged her eyes ahead again, and he could practically see her self-regard vanish.

Terra pushed himself off the floor, his back and shoulders protesting until he joined her in the second chair. Without a word he reached over to take one of her hands and found it cold. He touched her shoulder and discovered it to be the same.

He had to swallow the good-natured impulse to reprimand her. Instead he just retrieved the blanket he’d been resting on and wrapped it around her shoulders. It prompted a small smile, but her heart was only partially in it. “Thanks,” she murmured.

He finally followed her tired stare. As motionless as the furniture around them, Ven lay in the small bed. His eyes were closed, his mouth a neutral line and his complexion too pale. The covers had been drawn up nearly to his bare shoulders, but there was a glimpse of the gauze wrapped tight around his chest. He was breathing, but barely. Weakly.

It was a chillingly familiar sight.

“He’s the same,” said Aqua quietly. Terra couldn’t tell whether that was a solemn update or she had read his mind.

“How’re his injuries?”

She shook her head. “They keep trying to reopen.” She didn’t offer a follow-up to that, but Terra understood well enough. Aqua was still mediating with healing magic, tending to Ven’s wounds every time they began to slip. Despite her and Terra’s and the Master’s efforts, Curaga could only do so much. The rest was up to Ven’s natural recovery ability.

That probably explained why she looked so worn down. Between that and the stress of worry…

“Take a break, Aqua,” he repeated. “I’ll watch over him.”

He saw her lips thin as she bit down on them. It wasn’t an issue of trust, he knew. Like himself, Aqua had a hard time handing off the burden of responsibility. Before she could answer, they both perked up as they detected a fourth presence behind them.

“How is he?”

They were both on their feet in a heartbeat, postures rigidly and respectfully straight to betray no hint of their mutual fatigue. “Master,” they acknowledged in unison, but it was Aqua who answered. “He’s still stable. But…”

“No change,” Eraqus concluded. His frown deepened, but after a moment he nodded once. “That is better than a decline, at any rate. Thank you both.”

“Did you speak with Master Yen Sid?” Terra asked.

“Yes. We spoke at length, but unfortunately he had nothing to offer on Ventus’ condition. We can only continue to monitor him, and pray for the best.” Aqua didn’t move, but Terra sensed her disappointment. “However,” Eraqus continued, “I need to speak with you, Terra.” He appeared to hesitate then, looking past them at Ven’s still form. “...In my study,” he concluded. “Meet me as soon as you’re able.”

“Yes, Master. I’ll be there shortly.” As Eraqus left, Terra offered Aqua an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I’ll switch with you when I get back, okay?”

She bobbed her head with a quiet hum. They traded a light squeeze of their hands, and then he followed after their Master.

Aqua resumed her seat by Ven’s bedside, heaving a quiet sigh as she looked him over. _Why?_ she wondered. _Why is it always you?_ She found his hand and held it, stroking his knuckles with her thumb. His skin was warm, at least, but not feverish. Except for the wounds in his stomach and back, both of which were being effectively contained, he was in good condition. So why did he continue to sleep?

She leaned forward to cross her arms on the mattress, still watching Ven’s face. It had been a full day since he was hurt -- not a particularly long length of time, especially to the three of them, but it was far too long for him to be hanging in the balance like this. It was too long for him to have given no sign of life besides that feeble rise and fall of his chest.

She set her head on her arms, eyes closing, and immediately felt some of the ache in her neck release. She had been monitoring him with magic for just as long, a simple spell that would alert her to any shifts in his system. Simple or not, it was grating on what was left of her stamina and siphoning her strength alongside her lack of sleep.

Behind her eyelids, she could still see it. Ven, broken and bleeding, his normally bright eyes glazed over and distant. The gaping mess of tattered skin when she had cut his shirts open. All the blood, _his_ blood, she had never seen so much at once before and it refused to stop flowing onto the floor, her hands, her knees… It was a blur after that, but Aqua remembered crying. Through her tears and tight throat she had kept on talking, begging Ven to hold on as she channeled Curaga after Curaga--

She shut her eyes tighter, until the morbid memories were flecked with stars and static. They had replaced her involuntary recollections of the Realm of Darkness for the time being, swapped nightmares of one variety for another. She couldn’t say which was worse.

Regardless, her stiff shoulders slowly relaxed. She inhaled, exhaled, each breath steady and concentrated and full of the familiar scent of Ven’s comforter. It was reassuring, like the warm hand between her fingers, but it also hurt. It was a reminder that he was so close, but still so far away. Aqua’s part in this was mostly over; it was all up to him now.

By the time she realized she was drifting off, it was too late to shake herself out of it. Her last thought was that it would be all right, her spell would wake her if anything changed.

It felt as though no time had passed when something behind her suddenly slammed.

“Ventus!”

Aqua’s body moved on muscle memory. Pulling from the endless hours of scrabbling to survive, of never trusting her back to an empty space for more than a moment, of always looking and listening and _feeling_ for a sign of danger -- pulling from those hardened instincts, adding them to the remorse and anger she felt towards Ven’s state, she leapt to her feet and whirled around with enough force to send her chair toppling noisily, her Keyblade flashing into her hand with a sharp snap.

It took a few more seconds for her to wake up fully. When she did, and once her vision cleared in what light the gloom outside provided, she found herself looking at--

_Van--_

No--

“Sora?” Her voice was hoarse, thick with sleep and strained beneath the heart that had jumped up into her throat.

The boy stood frozen by the door, eyes wide and hands up defensively as he eyed her weapon. “S-Sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!”

Aqua’s tension instantly dissolved, her shoulders sagging with an unreleased sigh. “No… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so jumpy.” She dismissed her Keyblade and quickly cast a glance back at Ven, but he remained unmoved. It was still daylight outside, but the sun was beginning its descent over the distant peaks. “Did you come to see him?”

“Yeah… I wanted to come sooner, but--” Sora shook his head as he approached, looking solemn. “I should have.”

She found herself watching him, studying his young face and noting the sadness in his features as he observed Ven. So different from the cold apathy and collected aggression that she had seen on Vanitas’ face… and yet they were undoubtedly identical. Connected. How?

It wasn’t important. Not yet, anyway. Despite her own low mood, Aqua instinctively slipped into Terra’s role and tried to sound reassuring. “Nobody could have prevented it, Sora. He’s stable now, so we’re grateful for that.”

He looked unconvinced, but didn’t argue. Not for the first time, she was abruptly reminded of Ven. “So he’ll be okay?” he asked as he turned to her.

“His wounds are taken care of.” Aqua hesitated, that unspoken _but_ hanging in the air. “They’re no longer a threat. But… for some reason, his heart won’t wake up yet.” Despite her words of encouragement, she carefully drew back the blankets to check. The gauze around Ven’s torso was clean except for a small spot of red, but it was old and dry, not worth agitating his body over to change it.

As she covered Ven up again, she felt Sora staring at her. She knew what he was thinking. “Is it…?”

“No,” she said firmly. “Master Eraqus says it’s not the same as before. Ven just… needs to heal. In his own time.”

“Oh.”

Aqua retook her seat. Sora remained standing at her side. He continued to watch Ven’s face, his own serious and thoughtful and… something else that she couldn’t place. “Master Aqua,” he asked, “would you mind if… I stayed here? With you two?” He didn’t offer any explanation beyond that, but she didn’t need one. Any company was welcome. Ven would want that.

She hummed, managing a smile that was more genuine than those she’d forced herself to give Terra. “Mm. But just call me Aqua.”

* * *

“You wished to see me, Master?”

Eraqus turned at the address, his features set with a more serious tone than usual. His study was a decently sized, comfortable room, packed neatly along the walls with whatever books and records had been deemed too important for the library. Wide windows lined the eastern-facing wall, currently opened to let in the afternoon breeze that had the veil-like curtains constantly moving. The fireplace at the end of the room was empty, but Terra gave a small start when he noticed the plaque above it. For as long as he had lived in this world, the gold-cast coat-of-arms had always been bare -- but now Xehanort’s Keyblade hung over it. The jeweled eyes of the lion head relief were darker than he remembered, static and lifeless.

His gaze narrowed automatically, curiously, but Eraqus chose that moment to respond, drawing his attention back. “Yes. As I said before, Yen Sid and I discussed current matters -- carefully,” he added, “and with much thought.”

Terra didn’t reply.

“As things stand,” Eraqus continued, “we have two problems. Ventus’ health is our first concern, of course, and I recommend that one of us remains with him at all times until we see a change. I can relieve Aqua and yourself in the evenings. As for the second issue…” He looked intently -- almost pointedly -- at Terra, as though weighing how best to phrase his words. “Vanitas.”

Terra tried with everything he had to keep neutral at the name -- and succeeded, mostly. His face remained impassive, but he felt his heart wrench with agitation. Eraqus frowned, but it was more sad than disapproving. “He is also a priority,” he said slowly, “but not an active one.”

Terra returned the frown. “Master?”

“You are not to seek him out,” Eraqus informed him bluntly. “Given the state of Ventus’ heart, you and Aqua are needed here more than anywhere else. Additionally… there are certain aspects of their relationship that concern me. Things that warrant thought over action.” Terra’s expression darkened slightly, but he neither objected nor pressed. He knew where this was going. “No harm is to come to Vanitas -- for now,” said Eraqus. “Ventus’ Keyblade is as close as he’ll come to his own, so I have no doubt it’s safe with him. We need not worry about it yet.”

The implications here were obvious. Eraqus had sought Terra out specifically -- not to pass on the order, but to tell him, specifically, not to do anything rash. To refrain from seeking vengeance on his own terms.

“...Yes, Master.” The reply threatened to fall flat, lacking most of his usual attentive luster. Terra wasn’t insulted -- it was a wise warning -- but he couldn’t deny a part of him was disappointed, frustrated, that Vanitas was out there somewhere, running freely with Ven’s Keyblade. “And if we happen to find him by chance?” he proposed. A small probability, but one he couldn’t overlook. “What would you have us do?”

Eraqus hesitated, eyes briefly downcast as he considered. “Attempt to detain him,” he replied after a moment. “But I want him alive, Terra. No exceptions. If you feel he is too strong to avoid lethal force, do not engage him. Do not take that chance.”

“I understand.”

“Good.” He didn’t smile, but Eraqus’ mouth softened at the corners. There was gratitude in the look, or perhaps trust, but it soon turned serious once more. “And one more thing. Ventus’ health is not the only reason I want him watched at all times.” His grey eyes flickered to the windows briefly. “Even if I were to lock the Lanes and monitor them constantly, I don’t know how effective it would be as long as Vanitas can travel freely through the darkness. Neither can I say whether he has any reason to return to Ventus, but I will not risk it.”

Terra hadn’t even thought of that. As quickly as Vanitas had fled, as desperately as he had fought for his freedom, returning here to a world full of enemies seemed extremely unlikely. And yet… as Eraqus had said, he couldn’t rule out the possibility. “Of course, Master. We’ll make sure not to leave Ven alone.”

“Not only that. I need you in particular, Terra, to keep an eye out for Vanitas’ presence. In fact… I believe you’re the only one who can. At least at present.” Terra’s puzzlement must have shown, because Eraqus explained further, “I noticed something peculiar the other day. When the three of you first emerged from Ventus, I could immediately sense Vanitas’ darkness like a beacon. And yet, when I challenged him…” Again he frowned, eyes distant as he recalled those moments. “I almost didn’t notice in all the chaos, but his aura is very similar to that of the Unversed -- almost identical. Even as we fought, he was actually able to hide his own -- disguise it, rather -- and I believe he intended to throw off my senses by hiding among them. Had I lost sight of him for even a moment, it may well have worked.”

The weight of that hung in the air. Vanitas had used Ven to survive the X-Blade’s backlash, manipulated all of them while effectively utilizing him as a shield, drawn Terra and Riku to right where he wanted them, used Ven against the former and nearly killed the latter, and then managed to escape a room full of Keyblade Masters -- and yet none of those, in Terra’s eyes, said that he was a serious threat as much as the prospect of having nearly outwitted Eraqus one-on-one.

“He is intelligent,” Eraqus deduced, “as to be expected of any student of Xehanort’s. That is why I believe we must endeavor to remain one step ahead. And given your propensity for darkness, Terra, I believe you’re the only one here who might be able to detect Vanitas if he does return.”

It certainly wasn’t a form of praise, but it was nonetheless strange to hear Eraqus speak of darkness in a neutral manner -- as something useful, even. Many things had changed over the years, and the steadfast gaze he now fixed on Terra -- intent, expectant, not anxious or uncertain -- was one of them. Terra wanted to feel relieved or even proud of that unspoken approval, but at the moment his thoughts revolved entirely around the Vanitas problem.

Thinking over that, he nodded slowly. “I know what he feels like. I never felt his presence disappear during the battle, either.” Eraqus may well have been onto something. “I’ll keep watch,” Terra agreed. “And I’ll let you know if I detect anything.”

“Very well. I also suggest that you make a round about the world’s perimeter when you can. At least once a day, just to be certain.”

“Yes, Master. I’ll get to that right away.”

* * *

Aqua and Sora chatted on and off. It began with Sora explaining where he had been the last couple days, returning the Princesses to their worlds and assisting his allies in Radiant Garden, but he soon turned to asking questions. Nothing serious or heavy; on the contrary, they were the kinds of questions Aqua was happy to answer, and she wondered if that had been his intention.

He asked how long she and Terra and Ven had known each other, how many tries it took her to become Master, how many worlds she had seen, what she planned to do next. Nothing about Vanitas or the last thirteen years. The brighter mood was nice, even needed after the stress of the last week, and Aqua found herself smiling more than she would have guessed to be possible a few hours ago.

But when they ran out of casual things to talk about, the room fell silent again. The atmosphere was lighter than before, at least -- and when Terra joined them minutes later, that also lifted some of the weight. He sat on the bottom corner of Ven’s mattress, and then did a double take at Aqua.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Nothing. You just look… better. Than before.”

She gave a small hum and a smile, but only asked, “Is everything okay with the Master?”

“Yeah. He wants somebody guarding Ven around the clock until further notice. Even after he wakes,” he added, meeting her gaze evenly. Aqua held it. She read the implication: their Master was wary of Vanitas. That aside, she had the feeling there was something Terra wasn’t saying, but after a couple seconds she let it be. If he didn’t want to voice it in front of Sora, she wouldn’t question his judgment.

Again she took up Ven’s hand, threading her fingers through his. They remained unresponsive.

Beside her, Sora leaned forward in his chair. “Um… may I?”

She looked to see that he had reached partway for her and Ven’s joined hands, stopping short and watching her for permission. Puzzled, she only gave a light nod. He rose and joined Terra on the mattress edge, settling his left hand over hers and gently holding on. For a long moment he watched Ven in silence.

Then he reached into his righthand pocket, still without a word, and Aqua heard a metallic jingle. When his fist withdrew and turned over, she expected to see any number of things -- but never would she have guessed that his fingers would part to reveal green glass and silver wiring forming a very familiar shape.

Her breath left her in a soft gasp. Terra stiffened in surprise. “Where did you…?”

“He lent it to me a while back,” Sora explained. “He said… it was his way of helping out, and saying thanks.” The memory prompted a lopsided smile. “I think he was really saying that we’d all make it through to the end. Together. He made me promise to bring it back to him.”

Pins pricked at the back of Aqua’s eyes -- but she smiled, her hold on Ven’s fingers tightening fondly. “If he gave you that… then he believed in you, Sora. More than you know.”

He gave a small, self-conscious laugh. His cheerful expression became more muted as he looked at Ven again, but it didn’t fade. Not entirely. He slid his right hand under Ven’s, pressing the Wayfinder gently into his palm. “Thanks for the good luck, Ventus -- Ven,” he corrected. “But… now it’s time for _you_ to find your way back again.” He glanced at Aqua, his smile growing in size and warmth -- and it looked so much like Ven’s that her heart ached. “Just don’t leave ‘em waiting too long.”

It was getting harder to hold back her tears, but Aqua managed and nodded once. “Mm. We’ll be here.”

Terra set a hand on Sora’s shoulder, gripping in that fond way he always did with Ven. Sora shot him a grin. Aqua realized right then that all four of them were linked through contact: Ven to herself, herself to Sora, Sora to Terra. With no reason for it other than that observation, she leaned over to take Terra’s other hand, closing the circle. She probably imagined it, but she thought the air in the room felt a little clearer after that, as though an unseen weight had lifted from the atmosphere.

For the first time in over a day, she felt real hope light up in her heart.

Fingers twitched lightly against her own. She glanced at Sora curiously, but found his eyes on Ven again -- and this time they were alert, wide and searching. Troubled, she followed his gaze and saw that Ven was still unmoved, unchanged.

“Sora? What’s--”

Suddenly Ven’s lips parted and he inhaled, deep and strong. All three of them were instantly on their feet. “Ven!” Aqua’s hand tightened around his at the same time that Sora’s did hers. As she watched Ven’s chest rise and fall rapidly, fighting some unseen battle, they each held onto him, tightly, as though their twin grips on his hand were his lifeline, a desperate struggle to keep him from falling back beneath the dark depths of unconsciousness. His eyes still hadn’t opened, but this was the first sign of real life since yesterday. Aqua’s spell told her that his panting was straining his injuries, but they weren’t in danger of tearing yet. Afraid to interfere, she only continued to watch.

After what felt like minutes, his breathing started to even out again, to slow, and before Aqua could decide whether that was a good or bad thing, she saw Sora wince. “He’s slipping,” he said solemnly.

She didn’t know how he knew. She didn’t care. She trusted him, she believed him, and for an instant her heart started to break at the idea that they couldn’t help, that the two of them weren’t enough--

Terra suddenly leaned in on her left. Without prompting he joined the tangle of hands and Aqua felt the force of his light intermingle with theirs. It was almost tangible, the sense of concern and love and determination flowing between the four of them.

_Hold on, Ven, please -- don’t stop fighting, we’re here--_

Again Ven took a deep breath, each one after that coming calmly and steadily. Another light spasm went through his fingers -- but this time they curled inward, around Aqua’s hand and the Wayfinder. While his grip wasn’t all that strong, it still held on. He was responding.

Aqua placed her other hand on his forehead, relieved to find no change in his temperature. Neither did her magic alert her to any internal changes. Whatever force Ven was fighting, it wasn’t physical.

They waited. It felt like forever.

And then all at once Ven’s grip slackened and fell away. His breathing stopped. The warmth in the air faded. Everybody and everything went coldly, deathly still.

Aqua’s heart stalled in her chest. Her blood ran frigid.

_No. No, no, no no no Ven please no don’t give up no don’t no no no--_

Caught on the fine line between denial and hysteria, she almost missed the subtle movement behind his eyelids -- but as fixed as she was on his face, there was no way she could have missed the moment they fluttered open. His eyes, wincing but as bright and blue and _alive_ as ever, found her face first.

Their gazes met and held. Ven’s softened as his eyes adjusted to the light; Aqua’s filled with tears. Gradually, with effort, the corner of his mouth lifted a tiny bit.

“Ven!” Terra broke the stunned silence, the joy and relief in his voice speaking up for all of them. The sound of Sora’s laugh was the same. Utterly and emotionally spent, Aqua dropped to her knees.

Ven slowly looked around at each of them. Like the scar on his right cheek, there were lines beneath his eyes that didn’t belong on his young face. They were a testament to the bone-deep exhaustion that still clung to his limbs, just like every careful, conscious breath was evidence of the pain lingering in his chest.

But his smile stayed.

“Sorry, Aqua,” he whispered, closing his eyes. The words were weak and light, more air than voice. “I made you cry... again.”

A shaky laugh escaped her thick throat. She shook her head. “It’s okay,” she assured him gently, even as her happiness finally spilled over and rolled down her face. “They’re good tears, Ven.” She touched her palm to his cheek, belatedly hoping it wouldn’t make him feel awkward in front of the others.

The way he shifted ever so slightly to lean a little ways into the touch, still with that tired smile, said he didn’t mind at all.

* * *

Terra had never set foot in Twilight Town before today, but it was familiar nonetheless.

The perpetual sunset, the tranquil earth tones of the architecture, the calm murmur of voices on the street instead of the usual city roar -- it was all pleasant, even attractive. The atmosphere wasn’t all that different from the Land of Departure, simple and serene and appearing stuck in time.

He didn’t like it.

There were no real memories, just shadows of them, traces of consciousness that had flowed into him upon Xemnas’ death. His Nobody had been to this world. Like Radiant Garden, it had served some ill purpose or another.

Terra didn’t linger. Familiar or not, he still knew nothing of the town’s layout and needed directions. After closing the Lanes behind him, he swiftly made his way up to the main street. It took him a few tries to locate somebody who knew what he was talking about, and then from there it was a more or less straight walk across town.

He’d only been given a general description, not an address, but of all the second-floor apartments on this corner only one looked newly occupied. Unlike its neighbors, the last door on the row only had a pot of flowers to show for decor. All the windows were cracked open for some airflow against the summer heat, but there were no curtains. Only one of the windows was lit, and not very brightly.

Terra knocked and waited. He needed to make this fast. Even with Eraqus taking watch for the night, as promised, he didn’t like leaving Ven in another world for even a moment.

_Thirty minutes,_ he reminded himself. _Thirty minutes at most._

Finally, the door swung inward and he found himself eye-to-eye with a familiar face -- just the one he was looking for.

“Well, well.” Lea grinned, but it was less a warm greeting and more of a laidback acknowledgement. It was a little odd to see him in casual clothing, Terra noted. With all the running around Lea had done in assisting them, much of his time had been spent in his protective black coat. “It’s not every day I get a legend paying me a housecall.”

Terra didn’t know him well enough to decide whether he was giving an odd compliment or teasing him. “You don’t seem too surprised,” he noticed.

“I’ve got my sources. I figured one of you might show up.”

“Why’s that?”

“How’s Ven?” Lea asked suddenly. Despite the abrupt change in topic and having blatantly ignored the question, his tone was casual and light. “Last I heard, you guys were gonna let us know if something was up.”

Terra hesitated. Did Lea know something already? “Something’s up,” he replied with a hint of sarcasm that, judging by Lea’s rising eyebrow, didn’t go unnoticed.

“One look at your face and I coulda guessed that from a mile away there, Terra.”

Far from a joking mood, Terra couldn’t keep his tone from falling flat. “Then why’d you ask?”

“Because you’ve got the look of a guy who’s after somethin’ and ain’t above murder to get it,” Lea replied coolly, giving a nonchalant wave. There was a pause on either end, but he was quick to break it with a grim smile. “Seriously, though. I turn my back on you kids for a few hours and somethin’ dark goes down. What happened?”

“Long story. I’ll explain everything, but first, tell me: can you still use the Dark Corridors?”

Lea slowly crossed his long arms, his expression continuing to give nothing away. “Sure. That’s not exactly somethin’ you just forget overnight.”

“So you can use them anytime?”

“Anytime I feel like it.”

“Then I need a favor,” said Terra grimly. “A big one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G o o d n e s s, I'm sorry for the obnoxiously long delay! Life got busy and I've had other writing projects on top of working on my original stuff, so this series got pushed to the backburner. I'm gonna try and get back into the one-chapter-a-month rhythm, though! Thanks so much for reading, and Happy Holidays!


	11. Small Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Words are easy, like the wind; Faithful friends are hard to find.”_ -William Shakespeare

Ventus was alive.

Vanitas felt it the second that luck chose the light’s side -- again -- and allowed Ventus to wake with his life. No longer an empty shell hanging in the uncertain in-between, but conscious, a sudden warm spark at the back of Vanitas’ mind and an unwelcome skip of his heartbeat.

 _Yeah, yeah,_ he muttered silently to his erratic pulse. _I feel it. Like anybody’s surprised._

Despite that thought, he was sure Terra and the rest were all a mess of happy, relieved tears right then. Ironic. For the people who knew Ventus best, they had probably doubted his survival the most -- even been surprised when he woke up. Vanitas could picture it easily enough.

Was that all friendship was? Throwing a fuss over each other, letting emotions cloud your judgment, having your life revolve around the well-being of another who was doomed to die one day, anyway? If it was, he wasn’t sorry he’d missed out on that opportunity. It seemed pointless, an unnecessary liability.

So why did Ventus and his friends swear by it?

Vanitas lifted his head, staring out across the sunlit waters. He sat atop a high outcropping of earth, a cliff that stretched out far over the forest below. Beside him a narrow waterfall roared, dropping a dozen stories into a choppy river that wound through the trees like a snake to eventually join the sea half a mile away.

He liked it here, he supposed. As much as he could like anything. This world was mostly wildlife -- the silent kind -- and boasted only a few dozen humans, dark-skinned natives who moved with impressive grace through the underbrush. The men were always armed and traveled either solo or in pairs, hunting or scouting; the women never carried weapons but moved in groups, gathering food. All were avoided easily enough once he made note of their travel patterns, and so he had effectively remained isolated since his escape from the Land of Departure.

He straightened up, the motion popping his spine in a couple places. He’d been sitting here for a while. His attention returned to the weapon at his side, still lying in the dirt where he had left it. Close enough to reach in a hurry, but far enough to give the impression that he didn’t enjoy being near it, Ventus’ Keyblade seemed impervious to the setting sun. He had cleaned the blood off the blade, but despite its bright white sheen, it didn’t glint in the rays of dusk like it should have.

After a long moment of studying it, Vanitas slipped his fingers around the grip and lifted it. Unlike before, the weapon was virtually dead in his hand. It didn’t hum at his touch, respond to his will, or even feel like anything other than a regular, lifeless object. He couldn’t dismiss and summon it anymore, either. It was a Keyblade in name only.

“That’s how it is, huh.” He recognized rejection when he saw it. Or at least disapproval. It was unlikely any Keyblade would appreciate being stolen, let alone turned on its keeper.

Fantastic. So Vanitas had put a priceless bounty on his head only to escape with a useless weapon. He heaved a short, silent sigh and leaned back on his left hand, staring up at the orange-purple sky.

Well, a weapon was a weapon. It was better than having to rely purely on magic in a pinch. Maybe it would even accept him over time… Ventus had taken his Keyblade, but not his potential as a wielder.

Vanitas snorted quietly. He was being too optimistic. No, he figured, the only way he could get his own weapon back was if a Master deigned to pass him the power again. And he could already guess the odds of that.

 _So now what?_ It was the question he’d put off asking himself for a while, but at this point he couldn’t avoid it any longer. He had his freedom, his powers, everything he could have wanted, minus his Keyblade. And yet… something gnawed at him. Something he couldn’t identify, something that put a hitch in what should have been a satisfying victory, something that kept making him look back and prevented him from thinking too far ahead. He’d tried to ignore it at first, but as time passed and the feeling didn’t dissipate, it went from annoying to bothersome to a little worrisome. Had he overlooked something?

Or was it possible, even slightly, that Riku had been onto something? Was it possible that he really had felt a glimmer of light in Vanitas, and that same irritating uncertainty was now hovering over what he had done to Ventus--

 _“No.”_ It was hissed, low and angry. He didn’t feel _regret_. He didn’t feel _guilty_. He didn’t _feel_ anything. If faced with the choice, he’d stab Ventus again without hesitation.

So why did the memory of that moment make him uncomfortable?

Spillover. That was all it was. During the first couple years of his existence, his tie to Ventus had been unstable, confusing, and oftentimes painful. It had been difficult separating the two of them in his mind, and on numerous occasions he had mistaken Ventus’ emotions for his own. Sometimes irrational fear would seize him out of nowhere. Other times it was happiness, the kind of pure, warm, and innocent joy that Vanitas could only ever know through Ventus. It wasn’t as though he was capable of it on his own.

That was it. Like everything else in the last few days, their current connection was screwy. Any uncertainty or anxiety he felt was just Ventus spilling over into his mind again. It would fix itself soon, surely.

That was what he told himself. For now, it was satisfactory, but the issue of where to go from here still hung in the air. Honestly, Vanitas hadn’t thought that far ahead before now. He’d just figured the answer would come to him once he was free, because freedom was all that mattered, right?

_When you put it that way… even if you did choose your path, it sounds like you just went along with everything without even trying to change it._

Unbidden and unwanted, Ventus’ words suddenly came back to him.

_You’ve never really thought for yourself. Not where it mattered, anyway._

Vanitas’ control slipped and his left hand fisted reflexively, an old, abandoned habit. What did that idiot know about any of that? _He_ was the one who’d been locked away without even realizing it, tricked and imprisoned by the Master he’d blindly respected so much. Vanitas… Vanitas had _always_ had a choice. It would have been easy to walk away, to flee during the number of times his own Master’s back had been turned. As he had told Ventus plainly, Xehanort had never made Vanitas any promises, never pretended to be anything he wasn’t, never feigned a relationship built on lies. They had been mutual means to an end to one another. Xehanort got his precious X-blade, Vanitas got to watch the world burn after personally lighting the proverbial match. Win-win, as long as each held up his end of the bargain.

Xehanort had given him purpose. Vanitas could admit that. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing shameful about it. Everybody served something, whether it was a person or a goal or whatever. Now his purpose was gone, simple as that, and he couldn’t totally deny that there was a sliver of truth to Ventus’ words, after all. Just because Vanitas had been _willing_ to serve Xehanort, and had done so out of choice, didn’t mean he knew how to function on his own at the drop of a hat. Servitude, however halfhearted at times, was all he had ever known. He wasn’t unhappy, necessarily, just uncertain. As he had told Ventus, it wasn’t as though he missed the old man.

But he couldn’t deny that life had been simpler under his wing, either.

Vanitas grunted and climbed to his feet, as if hoping to shake off those thoughts of the past. He had never been one for reflecting on memories, but ever since joining with Ventus again, he found himself doing it more and more.

Also spillover, surely.

 _Not like I’ll find any new answers sitting here._ He looked out again at the sunset for a moment. He’d seen plenty of them in his short life, but there was something different about this one. Maybe the colors on the water were new, maybe the sky was wider without crags and cliff faces framing the edges; whatever it was, it prompted him to stand there observing for several seconds longer than intended.

Then a bird shrieked in the distance, breaking his concentration, and Vanitas instantly dismissed the odd feeling. Again he picked up Ventus’ Keyblade, watching the way the sun finally reflected -- dully -- on its sharper edges. Like its wielder, it had done a lot of growing over the years.

“So what’ll it be, Ventus?” he breathed against the sudden breeze that had picked up. “Will you come and take it by force once you’re strong enough? Or do you still have some pathetic shred of hope left for me?”

The Keyblade gave no answer. No surprise there. With few other practical choices, Vanitas thrust the weapon through his belt on his left side. It was light enough that its presence wouldn’t impede his movement; he would just have to override his summoning reflex and get used to physically drawing it. A small inconvenience, all things considered.

He turned to go, the Keyblade’s stubborn silence emphasizing how alone he was. And where there had once been the bright, constant, annoying, and loud buzz of Ventus’ consciousness directly against his own, there was now only a faint glimmer on the edge of his mind to say that his other half still breathed, somewhere in a world far from this one.

* * *

Recovery was a slow process.

Sleep was always nice, an easy way of escaping his bone-deep exhaustion and forgetting his pain for a little while, but Ven paid for it every time he woke. He always felt stiffer than when he had fallen asleep, his chest tighter, and it would take him a good half an hour each time just to summon both the will and energy to open his eyes against the light.

Luckily for him, there was somebody by his side at every hour of the day to make the trial easier. Talking wore him out too quickly and most of the time he didn’t even try, but they filled the silence for him whenever he was awake. Aqua seemed to be in charge of changing his dressings and cleaning his wounds, but most of the time she held his hand and talked about the things they would do once he was better, or reflected on fond memories. Terra would update him on their allies and bring him messages. Eraqus told stories, both personal tales from his youth and legends passed down from his Master, some familiar and some new.

After a week of this, Eraqus ordained it necessary for Ven to rise and move around a little bit each day. Ven didn’t question, but apparently it wasn’t good to stay still for too long even if he was recovering. They started out with just a few minutes in the morning, walking a couple times around his room, and then moved on to the hallway once they were sure he could handle it. Despite the slow pace and Eraqus’ arm supporting him the whole way, Ven was startled by how difficult it was. His muscles were already weak from lack of use, but the unforgiving burn in his chest and back was much worse. Every time he made it back to bed, it felt as though his injuries had pulled back open and he expected to find his wrappings stained with fresh blood -- but that was never the case, fortunately. They hurt terribly, but simple agitation wasn’t enough to make them decline. Eraqus’ call had been a good one.

By the middle of the second week, Ven was up and moving three times a day, albeit briefly and always with assistance.

By the beginning of the third, he was eating normally, and with Terra’s help could make it to the bathroom long enough for a much-needed washing every couple days. Speaking came much more easily, as well, and it was at this time that he was allowed to have visitors.

Sora was the first to show, to nobody’s surprise. Ven just didn’t expect him to (literally) pull Riku and Kairi along, hastily leading them both by the hand into Ven’s room with a bright grin and a brighter greeting. Ven hadn’t spent all that much time around those two, especially Kairi, so it was nice to properly meet the girl that provoked warmth and trust in his heart without so much as saying a word.

Riku was as reserved as ever, but Ven noticed that he would look away if their eyes met. By the third time it happened, he was sure it wasn’t coincidence.

Ven sat in bed the whole time, but the cheerful conversations and jokes seemed to rejuvenate him in a way nothing else had so far. He felt better, fuller, and less lethargic. Even so, Eraqus had given a curfew to ensure Ven got to sleep on time, so the trio couldn’t stay too long. When they reluctantly moved to leave, Sora promised enthusiastically that he would be back within the week, next time with a dessert from his mom because she had been baking a _ton_ ever since he got back--

And so it went.

Mickey visited along with Donald and Goofy, bringing the well wishes of both Yen Sid and Queen Minnie. Naminé also surprised him one afternoon, as did--

“Lea?” Ven’s voice was a lot stronger today. He even dared to believe he sounded almost normal again.

The (much) taller wielder flashed a crooked smile as he entered, his black coat slung over his shoulder. “Yo, Ven!” He stopped halfway to the bed and narrowed his eyes studiously. Ven was definitely several shades paler than he remembered. His posture was also more slack than usual, less proper as he reclined against his headboard of pillows. Lea had an eye for body language, and Ven’s currently said he was exhausted despite those bright, happy eyes. He didn’t look all that bad, considering what he’d been through, but Lea wasn’t going to let him slide that easily. “Jeez, man, you look terrible.”

Ven made what was probably supposed to be a sneer, but on that baby face it was anything but. “Oh, _thanks._ What’s your excuse?”

“ _Hey._ Mind your elders, kid.”

Ven’s response was something close to a pout this time -- jokingly, Lea had already given him a hard time about growing up without him -- but it only lasted a moment before he laughed. That, too, was short: his eyes thinned a little and the sound faded a bit too quickly. He played the wince down so expertly -- almost -- that Lea suspected he’d had a lot of practice lately. Ven certainly seemed like the honest type who’d never told a lie in his life, but he was also the kind of guy to put his friends before himself every which way. He’d probably been hiding his lingering aches from Terra and Aqua with that same easy smile.

Pretending not to notice, Lea spun the bedside chair around to sit down and straddle it with a dramatic sigh. “Well, at least somebody’s getting some R&R. The rest of us are bein’ run ragged, you know.” The teasing might have seemed insensitive to some, but Lea figured Aqua and the others were already walking on eggshells around the kid. A more lighthearted take was probably just what he needed.

Judging by how alert and cheerful Ven looked, that seemed to be the case. “Yeah? With what?”

“You name it,” said Lea with a wave. “I thought my days as an errand boy would be over with that war of yours, but _no_ , suddenly everybody _wants_ the guy who can travel through Corridors. Whatever happened to ‘oh, no, that’s too dangerous, Axel! You need to take a gummi ship’?”

Ven gave a lighter chuckle this time. “I think you’ll live. How’s Isa doing?”

Lea was surprised by the quick inquiry, but then immediately decided he shouldn’t have been. As considerate as Ven clearly was, it made sense that he would be thinking of an ally, even one he hadn’t properly met with in over a decade. “He’s pullin’ through. Guy’s tougher than he looks.” He noticed the corner of Ven’s mouth twitching. “What?”

“You make it sound like he doesn’t look tough. He definitely looks tougher than you.”

“Hey! Those’re big words from a kid who’s probably a hundred pounds soaking wet.”

“Yeah, and I still beat you one-on-one.”

Lea flinched. Ven’s attitude could roll with the best of them. “Oh, yeah? Why don’t you put your magic where your mouth is, then, Mister Master? As soon as you’re on your feet again, me ‘n you are going for round two.”

Ven perked up like a playful puppy, his face brightening -- and then hesitated, and after a moment seemed to curb the enthusiasm as he glanced away. This was the second time he’d broken eye contact. “Yeah. Sometime. After I’m better,” he added, but the pause before that last remark was a heartbeat too long. Despite his words, that wasn’t the problem.

It was here that Lea faced a tough call. Playing off his discomfort, giving a partial truth -- they were tactics he was intimately familiar with, having used them plenty of times himself. It had also been the common way of things in the Organization: your business was nobody’s business unless you said so. Privacy was heavily valued, and lying -- whether directly or otherwise -- was to some degree expected among their ranks.

That was why Roxas had been so different. Roxas, who was always direct and open and honest, who had nothing to hide from anybody. He’d worn his feelings on his sleeve with no reason to think he should ever do otherwise.

And Ven, in the little time that Lea had gotten to know him better, seemed to be the same way. He was easygoing, straightforward, quick to put his heart in his words. But he smiled a lot more than Roxas, was more disciplined than Roxas, even if they shared the same hair-trigger temper and naively optimistic view of life. Oh, yeah, and the same face.

Rather, it was more accurate to say that Ven strongly resembled Roxas in his early days. The trials of life had changed Roxas in some ways, making him quieter, more observant, but also more aggressive and temperamental. Ven, on the other hand, had come through his scars and challenges with that bright light fully intact. On the outside, anyway.

That was probably why Lea felt so conflicted now. He had always been the type to try and respect privacy, provided orders didn’t demand otherwise. If Ven was making an effort to hide things, he surely had a reason for it, even if it was something as simple as pride.

And yet…

How might the last couple years have turned out if Lea -- Axel, at the time -- had stopped to listen to Roxas? If he hadn’t hidden so much and pushed him away, arrogantly assuming he’d known better, pretending Roxas’ disappointment in him didn’t sting? Maybe Roxas and Xion could have been spared some of their pain. Maybe Roxas would still be that ever-cheerful goof of a tagalong, not the introvert that Lea had awoken to find -- more than once -- sitting awake on the opposite side of the room they now shared, face buried in his knees as he tried to slow his breathing and shake off the shadows of whatever uneasy mess of memories his dreams had assaulted him with.

Maybe Lea could have changed things. Maybe not. But he had the chance to try again now, with Ven.

“You don’t sound too sure about that,” Lea pointed out. His tone remained airy despite the weight of his thoughts just now. “Somethin’ up?”

Ven glanced at him, again hesitating, but this time his smile was so transparent that he might as well have dropped it.

“Hey, this isn’t a Keyblade wielder thing. We’re off the clock,” said Lea with a grin. “But since I’m already here, I’m just sayin’, I can lend an ear if you wanna get anything off your chest. That’s what friends do.” He shrugged one shoulder. “If not, well, respectin’ your privacy’s also what friends should do.”

A renewed smile flickered across Ven’s mouth, more legitimate than the last. He gave a small hum-grunt as he looked down at his lap, his fingers tightening briefly around the sheets, but he otherwise didn’t respond. Lea waited.

Right as he was about to consider changing the subject, Ven finally spoke.

“I don’t… have my Keyblade.” His smile had fallen to a neutral line. “I don’t know when I’ll get it back, either.”

“What?” Despite priding himself on masking his emotions most of the time, Lea felt his face break into open shock. Terra hadn’t mentioned _that_. “Wait -- what?” When Ven didn’t answer right away, Lea’s mind whirled as he thought back to his own training. Some of Merlin’s more disappointed remarks had implied that Lea could always have the power revoked if he didn’t measure up as an apprentice, so... “Hang on,” he said slowly, “did your Master…?”

Ven shook his head vigorously, only to cringe a second later. “Nuh-uh. ‘Course not.” He openly frowned this time, although his gaze remained fixed on his knees. “You probably heard… that Vanitas got away, right? Well… it’s a little complicated, but… he took it with him when he left.”

Lea was adding two and two and coming up with five. Or more like ten, because that was how many questions were instantly buzzing around in his head. As familiar as this scenario sounded, he knew it couldn't be the same. Taking a moment to think, he pointed out, “I know I’m still pretty new at this an’ all, but -- we can’t just _lose_ ‘em, right? Even if another wielder has it, shouldn’t you be able to call it back?”

“I think so. But… me ‘n Vanitas are different. And he’s in another world now, and that makes it harder, too.”

 _Different._ That was code for “long, difficult, and probably personal explanation” if Lea had ever heard one. The next obvious question was _why_ \-- why would a wielder intentionally take another’s Keyblade? -- but that was definitely being pushy. If Ven wanted to share anymore at this point, he could do so without provocation.

As it turned out, he _didn’t_ want to, because he said nothing else. Lea took the hint, but didn’t hide a puzzled sound. Curiouser and curiouser… At least Terra’s little backdoor approach made more sense now.

“Well, hey,” he said cheerfully, batting Ven’s shoulder gently, “I seem to recall you’re no pushover when it comes to magic. You can handle yourself without a Keyblade for a little while, yeah?”

Ven gave a crooked smile. “Yeah. I can still fight. That’s not what I’m worried about.” The look faded. “It’s just…”

“Just…?”

“It… doesn’t really _hurt_ , I don’t think. But… a part of me’s missing. And I don’t like how it feels.”

Something in Lea’s chest hardened, even went a little cold. It wasn’t the same -- it obviously couldn’t be -- but that description brought a memory to mind, a very specific moment that he couldn’t forget if he tried. He _had_ tried. “...You can’t really put your finger on it, but you can tell it’s something big, right?” he asked. “Something important.”

“Yeah.” Ven looked at him uncertainly, but this time it was Lea’s turn to be vague.

“Sounds rough,” he said sympathetically. That was what he intended, anyway, but his tone was half-hearted even to his own ears. That was probably his cue to go. “Still,” he added as he stood up, “don’t think you can get out of it that easily. I fully intend to fight you one-on-one again -- and kick your butt even harder than last time.”

The joke worked. Ven chuckled. “ ‘Last time,’ huh.”

“You betcha. So don’t do anything reckless, get your rest, yadda yadda, you know the drill.” Lea waved a hand indicatively. “I’m sure your parents downstairs have told you all this a hundred times by now.”

That made Ven cock an eyebrow for a split-second, but rather than commenting on the reference to Terra and Aqua, he only asked, “Leaving already?”

“ ‘Fraid so. I just remembered I have an appointment. Don’t wanna be late.” Lea turned away before he could catch any skepticism on Ven’s face, although he doubted it. Ven was trusting. Like Roxas.

“Oh. All right, then. So… see you when I see you?”

Lea didn’t turn back, but the question made his mouth quirk all the same. “You know it,” he threw over his shoulder. Out in the hallway, his expression quickly dropped to one more shrewd. He picked up his pace, donning his coat as he went, and as he passed the wide windows and white walls he couldn’t help thinking back to his many, many days in the Organization.

So this Vanitas had tried to kill Ven _and_ managed to steal his Keyblade, to boot. Imagine that.

Lea had the feeling Terra left that -- and probably some other details -- out of their conversation intentionally. Well, he surely had his reasons… or maybe Ven had even asked to keep it a secret. Whatever the case, Lea could respect that. The question now was what he intended to do.

As if he even had to wonder. No, his mind had been made up the second Ven mentioned feeling uncomfortable with his Keyblade gone.

 _So sorry, Terra,_ he drawled silently. _I know it’s not quite what we agreed on… but it looks like I’ve got one more icky job to take care of._

* * *

“How’s that feel?”

A sore grunt was Ven’s answer, muffled by the fact that he hadn’t removed his face from his pillow. After a moment he slowly turned his head in Aqua’s direction, but his hair was a mess and hid his eyes. “Better,” he muttered. He didn’t sound pained as much as… well, bored.

Aqua’s hands slid gently over his bare back once more, fingertips pressing lightly into his skin here and there. She sat in the chair at his bedside; he was lying down like usual. “So it’s not as stiff right here?”

“Not really.”

“How about here--” Ven jerked under her touch, a visible spasm working through his muscles. She withdrew her hands immediately. “Sorry!”

“It’s okay,” he assured her, the tension in his voice saying otherwise. “I’m just stiff from lyin’ around so much. But I know I’d loosen up a lot faster if I could just go outside a little.”

Aqua shot him a warm but skeptical look. “Nice try, Ven. You can ask the Master tonight, but I’m pretty sure his decision’s set. You need a few more days before pushing yourself that far.” Until then, he would have to settle for letting her massage the stiff kinks out of him like this.

He groaned at the refusal. “But it’s so _boring_ , Aqua. I’m not that tired anymore, so I can’t just sleep through it like before.”

“I know,” she said sympathetically. “But you’re almost there.” She turned her chair to scoot closer so she could focus on rubbing his shoulders. The wound on his back was completely closed now, an ugly but benign scar that ran for a full finger’s length just off-center from his spine. The purple bruising was gone, but the skin around the site was still a little off-color, a little swollen from the internal damage that continued to heal more slowly. His stomach was more tender, enough that Ven had to keep an arm propped between the bed and his chest when lying on his front to prevent full contact against the bed, but that too was on the way to a full recovery.

And this was with the aid of healing magic every day. If not for that, Aqua wasn’t sure Ven would have survived. The Keyblade was a unique and powerful weapon -- terrible in the wrong hands -- but lacking experience with such heavy, brutal injuries, she would never have guessed that it could inflict so much damage in a single, simple strike.

“I can bring you some more books from the library,” she offered. “Is there anything you feel like reading?”

Ven hummed. “...Nah. I finished a few already.”

Aqua glanced at the novels sitting on his desk. She wasn’t sure where Ven had gotten that penchant for speed-reading, but it was impressive. With a kind sigh she spared a hand to brush his bangs aside, offering him an apologetic smile. “Hey,” she said gently, “you’ve made it this far, haven’t you?”

“Yeah…” he muttered reluctantly. Suddenly he brightened, looking hopeful. “Hey, Aqua -- do you think I could stay in your room tonight? I can make it that far. I just wanna get out of this one for a while.”

That made Aqua chuckle. It would also give the Master a night off from standing guard. She would double-check with him to be sure, but she doubted he would object. “Sure, Ven. I think a change of scenery might be just what you need.”

With that mercy granted, Ven was content to let the matter of his boredom slide -- mostly. It didn’t take long for his spike of cheer to turn quietly thoughtful again. “I’m gonna be so rusty,” he assented after a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever gone this long without fighting or sparring or _something_.”

“You’ll be fine,” Aqua assured him warmly. If he hadn’t lost any skill after thirteen years of slumber, then three weeks of bedrest were surely nothing to worry about. The bigger concern was that he no longer had anything to fight with, but she wasn’t about to bring that up prematurely. (Although Ven, and probably Terra as well, would undoubtedly have pointed out that three weeks was not “prematurely” by any stretch of the imagination.) “I’m sure getting you back up to speed is our next priority. But you know,” she teased, “I think a lot of people would be glad for a break like this.”

“I’m not a lot of people,” Ven countered, but it was with a smile. After another few heartbeats, he prompted again, “Aqua?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think…” He hesitated. “Even without my Keyblade… it’d be okay for me to travel, right? Once I’m up to it?”

Her hands paused. She could feel him watching her intently, but she didn’t look over. “...We’ll have to see what the Master thinks,” she reasoned. “The boundaries between the worlds are unstable after what happened, so we don’t know all the dangers yet.”

“You ‘n Terra have been traveling,” he pointed out. “I know I can’t get anywhere by myself right now, but I can still come along, right?”

Again, Aqua didn’t reply right away. She wasn’t sure this was the right time to address the issue, considering she had no real answers to give him. “...We’ll see, Ven. Let’s just focus on -- Ven!” She watched anxiously as he began to push himself up, his jaw clenched tight against the pain it incited. She stood and carefully took hold of the tops of his arms, trying to help ease his weight along with the movement, but Ven ignored her. From rolling onto his hip and into a proper sitting position, and then scooting back to gingerly prop himself against the pillows lining his headboard, it took him nearly a full minute. His face was slightly flushed with the effort, his shoulders tense against whatever discomfort he was bracing himself. “ _Ven_ ,” Aqua implored, “please, you need to be careful--”

“It’s Vanitas, isn’t it.”

She stared, surprised. Not only was this the first time Ven had brought him up since the incident, but the way he looked directly at her, his blue eyes serious and his voice low and solemn -- it made him look older than the Ven she knew. Thirteen years older, even. “That’s... the real reason you guys don’t leave me alone, isn’t it?” he pushed. “You think I’m still in danger?”

Aqua looked away. So she wasn’t the only one who had avoided the subject. “We…” She sighed quietly. Ven could handle talking about it, she was sure, but she didn’t want him to. She didn’t want either of them to remember those terrifying moments -- even though she knew they would never forget.

“It’s okay.” Ven appeared to consider adding something, but instead retrieved the shirt at his side and, slowly, pulled it over his head. Aqua had to resist the urge to reach over and help him. “You’re worried,” he went on once he’d finished, his voice a bit hoarse. “I think I’d be the same way, if it was one of you. But…” He frowned, something sad in the look as his eyes dropped. “He’s not coming back, Aqua,” he said more quietly. “What he did… he didn’t do it to kill me. He did it to get away. He wouldn’t come back just to finish me off -- even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t give into it.”

“Give into it?” she echoed, puzzled.

Ven gave a small nod. “He’s too... practical. For that.”

Aqua continued to stare at him, but Ven didn’t clarify. He seemed distracted, or as though he were talking to himself as much as her. “Ven,” she began slowly, “who exactly _is_ \--” Her senses picked up on another presence, making her stop. She looked up towards the door right as two figures stepped into it.

It was still a strange thing to see, enough that her eyes widened and her heart skipped a confused beat before she realized whom she was looking at. A nearly identical match to Ven in face and hair and stature, his eyes were the only thing that stuck out to her as different. Eyes a little too narrow, too shaded, too serious, too wary even as he observed the peaceful atmosphere in the room. And beside him--

“Master Aqua!” Xion gave a small, shy smile. “Hi. Is this a bad time?”

“No--” Aqua started to say, but then quickly glanced at Ven.

Already beaming at the prospect of new company, he shook his head. There was no trace of his previous mood and he wasn’t at all put off by the sudden appearance of his double. “Nah, you’re both fine. Come on in!” The other two did so, keeping a comfortably close proximity to one another. Aqua thought Roxas looked a little tense in his posture, or maybe just alert, but his expression was a neutrally curious one.

“I, um--” Xion pulled the small bag off her shoulder and opened it. “We heard you were hurt, so we wanted to see how you were doing. We would’ve come before, but--” She traded looks with Roxas, appeared to rethink her words, and instead added, “We made you something.”

“ _You_ made it,” Roxas corrected, but there was warmth in it.

“Roxas helped,” she insisted. “We both found the pieces and I just put them together. It’s nothing special, but…” There was a gentle tinkling sound as she drew out something small and colorful. Aqua hadn’t seen anything quite like it before, but she recognized the shape: a modest collection of small seashells had been strung together in columns and attached to a larger one. “It’s a windchime,” Xion told Ven. “I tested it first, and it’s not very loud, so you can leave it in your window at night. If you want to.”

“Wow!” Ven carefully reached to take it, suddenly bright-eyed and looking nothing like the serious almost-adult of a minute ago. Xion’s movements were easy and considerate as she placed the chime in his hand, and his were equally so as he observed it. “Thanks, you guys!”

Xion beamed back at him; Roxas’ smile was more reserved, but it was cheerful nonetheless. Aqua had to marvel at that. She hadn’t known either of them very long, still didn’t know them very well, but she’d quickly gotten the vibe that they stood on the shyer end of the social spectrum, preferring to listen and observe and only speaking when necessary, and usually quietly, and in Xion’s case often avoiding eye contact.

And yet… As they stood here now and the conversation picked up, they were nearly at as much ease as Ven was. Casual, comfortable, and chatting away like long-time friends. Not as though they had only met him recently.

It was curious -- but then, Ven did have a gift for making friends. Maybe he had just gotten through to the two of them faster than most.

Satisfied that they would keep him company for a while, Aqua excused herself.

* * *

One month.

It had been a month since Ventus woke up. Vanitas hadn’t meant to keep track of the time, but counting days was an unconscious habit from years long gone. It had been thirty-one days, to be precise, although that was _all_ he knew. He had been deliberately smothering any mental feedback from Ventus since then, pleased to find that he was once again capable of shutting that connection down whenever he wanted, and so he had zero impressions of the state of Ventus’ recovery.

Not once had he been tempted to reopen the connection and check.

As the Corridor closed behind him in a whisper, Vanitas glanced around the area. Once again the painted sunset above the sea greeted him, the land quiet except for the rush of the waterfall and empty but for the small birds that flitted by overhead. He had remained hidden in this world thus far, and always returned to it at the end of the day for that reason, but he wasn’t so arrogant as to become totally complacent. Underestimating his enemies had cost him both his Keyblade and his life in the past; if there was anything positive to be taken from those experiences, it was that he was more prudent these days. Maybe that counted for something.

After a long moment, convinced and content that he was alone, Vanitas turned to follow the slight downward slope that led away from the river. It stretched down to a thick and now very familiar grove of trees about a quarter of a mile off. The skies were clear, so rain wouldn’t be a problem. He’d stay here again tonight.

He pulled off his mask as he went, tucking it under his left arm. Wearing it wasn’t strictly necessary anymore, but it was an extra bit of protection, and in his travels he’d already been mistaken for Sora once without it. If it meant preventing annoyances like that -- and avoiding possible clues to his whereabouts for Terra and the rest to follow -- then continuing to don it as he’d always done was no big deal.

As he neared the bottom of the hill, Vanitas let familiarity and routine lower his guard slightly. His attention shifted from outward to inward, reducing the harmless sounds of the forest to background noise as he mulled over his thoughts.

That was why he didn’t detect the spark of magic until it was too late.

Color and light flared in the corner of his eye, followed by a telltale crackling sound half a second after. An immediate stop was impossible at his pace, so instead he bent his knees to gather his weight, kill his momentum, and then kick off the ground just as quickly to leap backwards. Even as he landed, he immediately discerned that the spell hadn’t been cast _at_ him -- he watched the head-high wall of flames form a wide semicircle before him, cutting off his path.

_“Hey, there.”_

Vanitas turned slowly, his posture straight but relaxed, refusing to give away how surprised he really was. The fact that he bothered with a verbal response at all, however, probably did so in itself. _“You?”_ he deadpanned, cocking an eyebrow.

Standing before his own Dark Corridor -- which swiftly closed -- the other Keyblade wielder gave a two-fingered wave in greeting and a half-smile that didn’t come anywhere close to touching his thin eyes.

“You’re a hard guy to track, Vanitas,” Lea remarked. The casual cheer in his voice was as fake as that expression. “But lucky for me, not _too_ hard.”


	12. Fire and Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick heads-up that this chapter does make a brief reference to events in KH0.2, and all chapters from this point on are liable to do the same.

Aqua woke to light on her face and warmth at her side.

Neither one was new. For the last few weeks she had broken a lifelong habit by leaving her bedroom curtains drawn back at all times, preferring to have the company of both sun- and moonlight as often as possible. Total darkness, even the comfortable and harmless kind that the late evening brought, made her uneasy now.

Blinking in the bright rays, she turned her head away as her room came into focus. White-and-silver walls, wooden furniture, her various belongings organized neatly throughout. The same as it had been over a decade ago. Once she reverted the castle to its original state, and then it had been restored, they found it to be in nearly the exact condition as they had once left it.

Equally familiar now was the second presence under her sheets. Her vision was still hazy as she looked down, blurring the lines between Ven’s blond head and her chest against which it lie. He had one arm around her waist to hold himself close, although he was angled a little awkwardly to keep his stomach free of contact.

Aqua gave a tired smile. “Tonight” had turned into several days, now going on a week, but she didn’t mind. Soon enough he would probably get bored with her room and either switch to Terra’s or go back to his own. She stroked his hair lightly, noticing that it was getting a little long around his shoulders.

_That’s... the real reason you guys don’t leave me alone, isn’t it? You think I’m still in danger?_

She sighed quietly. Those had been their orders, but that wasn’t all. Even if Eraqus hadn’t ordained it necessary, Aqua would probably have spent just as much time at Ven’s side. She had been moved to tears upon finding all three of them alive and intact and _okay_ , but she couldn’t deny that finally returning to Ven’s chamber, watching him wake, hearing his voice again… It had left her more emotional than the others did. Over the course of thirteen long years she had accepted the death of her Master and convinced herself -- and discovered firsthand -- that Terra had never stopped fighting. But Ven had been the biggest loose end, the one cause that pushed her to keep on fighting when times were at their darkest. Her survival became less about herself and her desires to see her friends again, and more about her responsibility in getting home and fulfilling her promise.

Gingerly, she slipped her fingers around his thin wrist as she began to sit up, doing her best to leave him undisturbed as she detangled herself from him. But when he stirred a little, wincing slightly as he rolled away from her and murmuring something unintelligible, Aqua hesitated.

Well… staying in bed another half hour wouldn’t hurt.

She reclined on her side again, reaching over to carefully and gently rub the safe spots that she’d memorized along his back.

* * *

“I’m really not very good at the whole ‘negotiator’ thing,” said Lea. Like Vanitas, he appeared impassive with his easy stance, but that relaxed demeanor was obviously meant to hide true intentions. “But here it is: I’m here for that--” He indicated Ventus’ Keyblade hanging at Vanitas’ side, “--and the way I see it, only one of us is gonna leave here with it. I’d rather _not_ kill you,” he added casually, “but I know you’re not just gonna hand it over, either.”

Vanitas eyed him silently for several beats. His other senses remained on high alert, just in case Lea was nothing more than a distraction, but it was difficult to see or even hear anything over the flames at his back. “That your way of asking for a fight?” he inquired finally.

“You’re telling me this can go any other way?” Lea grinned slightly. “How’s this: let’s go, and if it gets too tough for you, feel free to call it quits at any time. You give up the Keyblade, I leave and never bother you again. Fair, right?”

Again, Vanitas was silent. Was the Keyblade really all he was after? If so, Lea had to be acting independently from Eraqus’ group. If he was lying… Well, it made no difference. Vanitas wasn’t giving _anything_ up, and if he had to fight his way out of it, that was nothing new. “Ventus gets hurt and all his friends rush to the rescue,” he sneered. “Or are you still the errand boy, only here because the Lights are too good to hunt me down themselves?”

“Oh, you’ve got it all wrong, Vanitas.” Lea’s tone was openly condescending now, layered with enough sarcasm to say he held zero respect for the other wielder. More than that, it gave off the chill of utter apathy. “My orders were just to track your movements and let the big guns know where to find you.” With another lazy pseudo-smile that was more threatening than disarming, Lea extended a hand. “Now, I like Terra. He’s a stand-up guy. _But_ \--” With a crackle his Keyblade materialized. “--don’t get me wrong. He’s not the boss of me.”

If nothing else, Vanitas appreciated the brevity. No righteous spiel, no misguided sympathy thrown in his direction. Just an enemy prepared to dirty his hands to get what he wanted. He could respect that kind of single-minded drive, even, but not the loud mouth that came with it.

As he gripped the hilt of Ventus’ Keyblade, Vanitas quickly reflected on all he knew of Lea. A former member of the original Organization, a resurrected Nobody who had since been chosen by the Keyblade. Vanitas had never fought him, but he had seen his ability in passing and knew he was no pushover. He seemed to have abandoned his chakrams in favor of his newer, deadlier weapon, and clearly possessed a talent for magic.

The one thing that made him stand out from past opponents was the lack of a penetrating light in his heart. There was the taint of darkness in his aura, but it wasn’t an even balance like Terra and Riku. It was… well, it was nothing special, really. More noticeable than that was the look in his eyes: despite the smile he still wore, something in his gaze was cold and hard and dismissive. It was the look of a man who had killed before, without remorse.

And in comparison, there was Vanitas, who was still without a proper Keyblade. It meant his magic was weaker than normal, and the size and weight of this weapon still felt _off_ in his hand even after a month of carrying it. He was definitely at the disadvantage. Fleeing would be priority the second he saw the opportunity, but for now he had no choice. And if he happened to kill Lea before that opportunity arose, well, all the better.

He tossed his mask aside and drew Ventus’ Keyblade. Assuming his battle stance was almost refreshing; aside from the occasional group of Heartless, the last month had been scarce on battle opportunities. “I thought you might be different from the others,” he mused indifferently. “But you’re just as eager to throw your life away.”

Lea shrugged his free shoulder. “What can I say? When you betray a man like Xehanort, that puts some things in perspective. You don’t worry about little things like peril and preservation quite as much.”

Obviously.

The wall of flames suddenly flared, whipping around as though disturbed by a gust of wind. In the corners of his vision Vanitas saw them rush towards and around Lea to complete the circle, locking the two of them in a tight arena. Immediately he felt the temperature rise, but that was neither here nor there. Much of his training had been spent in extreme heat under a glaring sun; the abrupt shift was a mild discomfort, but nothing more.

As though to prove it, Vanitas moved first. He blurred forward, Keyblade slashing air as he cast a black web of lightning. As expected, he was disappointed by its potency, or rather its lack thereof. The range was half of what it should have been, and even though Lea avoided it, Vanitas could tell its impact power was significantly reduced. If he actually planned on sticking around long enough to kill this guy, he would have to do it the old-fashioned way, up-close and personal.

Lea rebounded from his dodge on a dime, a broad sweep of his own Keyblade narrowly missing Vanitas’ shoulder. It was clearly designed for speed and he bore it one-handed, the rest of his body boasting balance. His reach was long enough that he didn’t have to throw himself headlong into his attacks, like Ventus, but he lacked the kind of form that wielders usually possessed. It was effective nonetheless, because Vanitas quickly found that he would have to work for any openings: whenever he tried to withdraw to gather his bearings and some breathing room, Lea stayed on top of him. If he tried to push the offensive, Lea didn’t give any ground, but met him readily.

It meant a quick and constant exchange of blows. Lea hit harder than Ventus, but not as heavily as Terra. Even though many of his swings were accentuated with flames lighting his blade, it was nothing Vanitas couldn’t handle in terms of raw power, and if it was purely a show of strength and swordsmanship then Vanitas was confident he could keep the advantage. He had, after all, been taught by the strongest wielder in history, and knew more than a few underhanded tricks to go with his proper fighting style.

He made a two-handed stab at chest height. Predictably, Lea parried with a swing to knock Vanitas’ blade off-course -- and it worked, except that it was exactly the maneuver Vanitas had been hoping for. With a sharp twist of his wrist he locked the Keyblades at their curves and turned Lea’s momentum against him with a hard jerk, effectively tearing the weapon from his fingers.

It was an old trick that Xehanort had used on Vanitas in the early days. Teaching defense had been his top priority -- Vanitas was no use to him dead -- and so that same maneuver had been used on him again and again and again, stressing attention and expectation and control until, _finally_ , Vanitas understood what it meant to see his weapon as an extension of himself, something he had to be consciously aware of at all times. Something he couldn’t _ever_ lose.

And yet he had failed that basic lesson miserably one month ago.

And now, so did Lea. Vanitas didn’t wait for him to look surprised. He had nothing against Lea, really, at least nothing personal -- Lea was just an obstacle, something to overcome, unworthy of any further attention -- and that meant Vanitas was fine with putting an end to him quickly. He would get no particular satisfaction from dragging it out.

As his Keyblade was knocked aside, Lea made an impressive recovery by jumping backwards -- but Vanitas was ready and stayed close, bearing down hard in a swing meant to cut right through the arm that Lea was raising in defense. Fire suddenly erupted between them, but it wasn’t a spell; instead of cutting through easy flesh, Vanitas’ slash hit an abrupt stop with the sound of clashing steel. As the flames cleared he discovered Lea holding him at bay with a chakram -- and a smirk.

 _Twogetback--_ Vanitas backpedaled at the same time that Lea’s left arm moved. He cleared the worst of it, but the second chakram managed to cut hard across his bicep. Not enough to cripple, but it hurt enough to make him wince and immediately began to bleed.

Lea didn’t give chase this time, but sighed loudly as he lowered his weapons to his sides and gave them both a nimble spin. “Sheesh, that was fast. And I thought it was just Kairi who was good at disarming me. Guess I’ve still got some things to learn.” He glanced over at his Keyblade lying in the grass; it flickered and disappeared, but surprisingly, he didn’t summon it again. His grip remained on his chakrams. “But I guess that’s my bad. The way I hear it, you were Xehanort’s right-hand man long before Xigbar was. Probably shouldn’t have tried going Keyblade-to-Keyblade right off the bat with somebody at the Master level.”

Vanitas’ gaze thinned ever so slightly. If they were taking this moment to talk, he might as well indulge some of his own curiosity. “I meant what I said -- you’re not like the others. So why risk your life over this Keyblade? It’s not yours. Ventus will live without it. You’re really ready to die playing hero?”

“Hero? Please. I’ll gladly leave that white knight stuff to the others. No,” Lea drawled, “I’ve just got a promise to keep. That’s all.” He set one chakram against his shoulder, cocking an eyebrow. “Last chance, Vanitas.”

 _“Keep it.”_ Vanitas darted forward, but Lea was better prepared than he looked. He intercepted Vanitas’ slash and redirected it -- but instead of taking the chance to try and disarm him in return, his second chakram cut upward. Vanitas twisted to avoid it, tearing free and barely dodging a second blow, but as he withdrew again Lea suddenly hurled both weapons straight at him. Vanitas parried one to knock it back and side-stepped the other, but a second later it circled back around and bounced off his hip. The chakram was also _on fire_ , and the flames that immediately singed his skin hurt much worse than the thin cut that opened up.

He stumbled, quickly calling a healing spell to mind, but Lea wasn’t giving him the chance. Again they clashed, again Vanitas was pushed backwards, now doing his best not to favor the right side of his body, and it was then that he realized how clever Lea was. Lea certainly wasn’t bad with a Keyblade, but he had the marks of somebody who was obviously still learning. With his chakrams, he was far more efficient. But in starting the fight with the Keyblade, he had allowed Vanitas to size him up based on his lesser ability -- meaning Vanitas had expended energy under false pretenses, going all out to try and end the fight quickly based on his initial assumptions about Lea’s competency. In pulling this ace out of his sleeve, Lea had caught him off guard _and_ gained the advantage, because this wasn’t a style Vanitas was used to fighting. He was used to clashing Keyblades, to challenging proper wielders. Chakrams were unconventional, Lea dual-wielded, and his form and maneuvers were vastly different from what Vanitas had been taught. Vanitas couldn’t totally discredit the difference in their ages and experience, either.

And on top of all this, Vanitas was still handicapped by a powerless Keyblade, the shape and weight of which wouldn’t work with his usual style of heavy, two-handed blows.

For the first time, the small but undeniable possibility of actually losing this fight flickered across his mind.

* * *

Ven yawned as he stretched his arms over his head, careful not to move as quickly or arch his back as far as he normally would. The movement still sent a few aching pangs through his stomach and along his ribs, but he was used to the lesser pains by now and ignored them.

Still, Terra stopped to turn a curious look down at him. “Still in one piece?”

Ven nodded. “Yup! After surviving the walk down the stairs, I feel like I can do anything.”

“Heh.”

Had it been Aqua, she would have offered to hold his hand the whole way. Terra, always willing to at least consider Ven’s independence before erring on the side of caution, had done no such thing, but he still walked close enough to catch him if Ven’s strength happened to give out. Luckily, even that was unnecessary.

In the kitchen, Aqua instantly looked over at them -- at Ven, specifically -- and beamed. She’d just set the last of the dishes on the table, which was packed with her usual selection of delicious breakfast foods. “Everything okay?”

Ven was long past the point of getting impatient with the constant inquiries about his health. Again he nodded. “Uh-huh! Never better!” When he took his seat a moment later, cringing a bit as his chest brushed the table’s edge, neither Terra nor Aqua commented.

For the first time in a month, things felt normal. _Really_ normal, not just the three of them pretending that they were. It was the first time Ven was eating breakfast out of bed, the first time he’d walked this far without help, the first time they talked without involving a change of bandages or an examination or twenty questions about how he felt here and there or any of that.

 _No,_ Ven realized halfway through his pancakes, _it’s not just the last month. It’s… been a lot longer than that._

Before his injury, there had been Vanitas. Before that, the War. Before that, weeks of fighting -- and recovering -- as they prepared. And before that…

Thirteen years. It was still hard to accept. Thirteen years of slumber, all passing like a blurry dream from which he could recall only certain sounds and feelings -- and just a few pictures. And all the while, Terra and Aqua had…

“Ven?”

He broke from his thoughts to find both of them watching him. He quickly shook off the shadow of those memories and returned to his usual smile. “Yeah! Sorry. I’m listening.”

Aqua’s gaze lingered, clearly seeing past the brush-off, but Terra either didn’t notice or intentionally changed the subject. “So I spoke with Master Eraqus last night,” he told them. “He said Master Yen Sid reported another shift in the world borders.”

Ven wasn’t sure what to make of that news, but Aqua looked troubled. “What do they think it means?”

“It’s nothing they’ve ever seen before,” Terra went on, “but Master Yen Sid thinks the walls might be breaking down. At this rate, the worlds could reunite -- to the way they were before.”

“Before?” Ven echoed. “But the worlds haven’t been like that since…”

“The beginning,” Aqua finished quietly. “The age of fairytales.”

Terra nodded. “Right. He didn’t sense any immediate danger from it, but every Keyblade wielder needs to be alert. And careful when traveling.”

“What’s so dangerous about traveling?” Ven asked.

“The Lanes are unsteady. Some of the paths are warped. Worst-case scenario, you’d get lost.”

“Hm. That doesn’t sound so bad…”

“That’s all we know right now,” Aqua pointed out. “But it could get worse -- or better.” Turning to Terra, she inquired, “Do the others know?”

“Not yet. I’m heading out later to spread the message.”

Ven immediately perked up, about to ask if he could come along -- but Aqua met his eyes in the same instant. He remembered what she had told him a few days ago, and quickly figured she would say the same thing now. Being without a Keyblade was one thing, but her other fear…

An argument was already on Ven’s lips, but he surprised even himself a bit by refraining. Actually, now that it was relevant and he had both of them in one place… this was probably the best time to bring up the one question that had been weighing heavy in his chest lately.

“So… what about Vanitas? Has anybody seen him?”

Both Terra and Aqua seemed to grow more serious, their easy air fading and their eyes thinning. They exchanged looks.

Ven frowned. What was that about? And why were they looking at each other, and not him?

 _...They’re doing it again,_ he realized with a flicker of disappointment. _Treating me like a kid._

“Look--” He didn’t even try to hide his impatience. “You don’t have to hide anything. I told you, Aqua, I know what he did -- and I’m okay with talking about it.”

They hesitated another moment still, but then Aqua spoke up. “No… there hasn’t been any sign of him,” she said slowly. “And Master Eraqus gave the order not to go looking… so nobody’s tried. Right, Terra?” She turned to him, but he was more interested in staring into his drink and didn’t meet her gaze.

Ven hummed, unsure how he felt about that. Glad, he supposed? It meant nothing would go down while he was stuck here… but at the same time, Vanitas was probably just getting farther and farther away.

“I can’t feel him anymore,” he murmured, partly to himself. He felt the others look at him, but he closed his eyes and focused, again, for the connection that had long since been severed. “I don’t know… if it’s because he’s in a different world, or…” He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, either. Relieved that he didn’t have to feel Vanitas’ impatience, disregard, hatred, and thinly veiled lust for destruction every waking moment -- but also concerned that he no longer had a way to find him.

“Ven…” Aqua’s tentative address broke into his thoughts. He raised his head to find her expression careful and uncertain. “Who… is Vanitas, exactly? The Master said that he came from you, but… he looks just like…”

Ven nodded once. Amid the chaos of the last few months, it was easy to lose track of who knew what. Now was as good a time as ever, he supposed, to get his best friends caught up on everything he knew. “I… still don’t remember a whole lot about it,” he admitted, “but… that’s right. He came from me. He kind of… _is_ me. Or was. He’s the darkness in my heart that Xehanort removed.”

“Removed?” Aqua echoed. She sounded both surprised and perturbed.

“Yeah. That’s why we’re able to join our hearts so easily. We used to be one half of the other.”

Aqua was quiet. She must have known a few of the details from hearsay among the other wielders, but obviously nobody had explained the whole matter to her.

“I’m still not… really sure what he has to do with Sora,” Ven went on, eyes dropping to the tabletop. “But I guess… since Vanitas was created around the first time I met Sora… something happened then.”

“The first…?” Aqua echoed, puzzled. “But if Vanitas was created when you were still Xehanort’s student… that would’ve been before we met you. Sora protected your heart after our first battle in the Graveyard, didn’t he?”

“That was the second time, actually. The first… was when my heart was fractured. After Vanitas left. I was fading. Sora was… really small then, I think. But he reached out to me.” Ven gave a crooked smile. “I really owe him, huh? He’s helped me a few times.”

He heard Aqua hum, a sad and unsure sound.

“So… you’re saying Sora healed your heart then, too,” said Terra thoughtfully, grimly, still staring distantly at his cup as he rotated it in his fingers. “And Vanitas was the dark part of your heart. Maybe that has something to do with it?”

Aqua picked up the train of thought. “You were missing part of your heart… Maybe it’s like Roxas. When Sora’s healed yours… could that have affected Vanitas somehow?”

“Maybe. But their faces are the only thing that’s similar between ‘em,” said Ven firmly. Their attitudes, their personalities, their auras, their fighting styles… everything else was worlds apart.

“Does Sora know?” Aqua asked. “What he looks like?”

“I don’t think so.” Not unless Riku had brought him up to speed. Ven watched his friends, curious. Aqua looked sad and pensive, her gaze downcast as she sifted through her thoughts. Terra had leaned back in his chair, arms crossed and frowning slightly. “Guys,” said Ven firmly, “it’s fine. I said I’m okay with it. It’s in the past -- all that matters is what happens now.”

“You’re right,” Terra agreed. He glanced at Aqua. “And we’re going to do something about this, Ven. It’s true the Master wanted us to stay close while you were healing, but I’m going to talk to him about getting your Keyblade back now that--”

“It’s not -- just about the Keyblade,” Ven interrupted. He met their stares calmly. “It’s… Vanitas. I think…” He trailed off, trying to give words to the various thoughts he’d had over those few days inside himself. “I want… I wanna talk to him again. I _need_ to,” he corrected. “And it has to be me.”

“About what?” Terra was probably doing his best to sound neutral, but he failed. He clearly didn’t like where this was going.

That was a hard question. Even if Vanitas were here now, Ven wasn’t sure what he would say to him. “I just…” He gave a short, hard sigh. “I know what he is. I know the kinds of things he’s done, and nothing makes that okay.” He hesitated. “But… when we were in there… I saw something else in him. I’m not saying it was anything good, but… it wasn’t all bad, either.” Aware of how little sense that probably made, he tried to clarify: “I mean… he’s a jerk, but… even he said that he is the way he is because he chooses to be. Meaning…” He tried to think of another way to say it, because even in his head it was a suggestion just short of ridiculous. In the end, he could find no better alternative, and finished a little uncertainly, “Meaning maybe… he could change.”

The two of them looked at each other again. “Ven…” Aqua began after a pause. “It’s good that you’d feel that way -- that you’d want to give somebody another chance -- but… I think we know where Vanitas stands. After what happened--”

“He tried to kill me,” said Ven bluntly. He finally raised his head. “He used me. I know that. And… it…”

It wasn’t all that surprising in hindsight, but it still hurt to know it.

He’d known at the time that he was being too optimistic. Their emotional-physical link was the only thing that had kept Vanitas from hurting him, or worse, and even then he’d made a few exceptions. Vanitas had been tolerable a few times, but Ven was learning that it was simply a part of his character: his dislike of Ven aside, he was actually a pretty relaxed and patient person. Unless provoked, he’d really just been content to just pass the time silently and peacefully.

And yet… that didn’t change what he was. Beneath that easy nonchalance was still a tangled mess of negativity. Violent impulses. Dark desires. As much as Ven wanted to think that could change, he had the gut feeling it wasn’t so easy. Even if Vanitas found a reason for a change of heart… he’d been steeped in darkness for so long, and so willingly, that there was no way it would be an immediate thing. It wouldn’t be fast, it wouldn’t be easy, assuming it was even possible.

But at this point, wasn’t it worth trying?

“I _know_ ,” Ven repeated, closing his eyes with a frown. The longer this went on, the more irritable he felt. “It’s not like I’d ever expect him to be an ally or anything. But… Xehanort’s gone. So maybe… maybe Vanitas… isn’t really a threat anymore.” He touched his stomach carefully, picturing the jagged pink scar that was testament to his narrow brush with death. “He’ll always be dangerous,” Ven went on. “Every Keyblade wielder is. But all he has left now is himself. As long as he’s not threatened… maybe we won’t have to worry about ‘im.”

“Maybe,” said Terra doubtfully, “but even if he could control what he is… what makes you think he’d want to?”

“He already controls it,” Ven countered. “When we were together, we were connected -- I felt what he felt. His emotions, but his darkness, too.” He wavered, lips parted to keep talking but his voice catching. Thinking back to that moment still made him uncomfortable, for several reasons. He looked away, not wanting to see his friends’ reactions. “And… there was one time,” he murmured, “we were arguing… he said -- and did some things… I was mad.” His fingers brushed the inside of his forearm, tracing the ghost of an injury that had never really existed. He remembered the burning pain, the bruising pressure, the dried blood caked on his skin for hours. “But… not just angry. I almost -- I _wanted_ to hurt him. Not to fight -- just to hurt him. And I almost did.” Barely. He’d only barely stopped himself. At the time it had confused him, but now he knew: Vanitas’ darkness had touched him. And unlike Vanitas, Ven wasn’t conditioned to resist its impulses.

“There wasn’t any warning. It was just... there. And I almost couldn’t control it,” he went on. “But Vanitas can. And he does. Sometimes it slips -- or sometimes he does give in, if he doesn’t care, but… not entirely.” Now he did look up, meeting Terra’s eyes squarely. “You know what it’s like, don’t you?” he asked quietly. “When you’re angry, and it’s telling you to do something awful.”

Terra was very still, his expression difficult to read. Aqua glanced between the two of them uncertainly.

“Vanitas said it himself,” Ven continued resolutely: “he’s not a victim. He’s done a lot of bad things. He’s enjoyed it. But…” He trailed off, unsure how to say it. Maybe he was reading too deeply into it, after all, trying to make excuses for somebody who neither wanted nor needed them.

“...But even he has his limits,” Terra concluded. “He doesn’t let his darkness run totally rampant. So you’re thinking that if he can control that much… he could control more. _If_ he wanted to,” he added pointedly.

Ven nodded, smiling slightly. Terra still didn’t sound in favor of it, but he’d backed Ven up with that suggestion regardless. “Right,” Ven agreed. “And besides… I feel like I… kind of owe him, a little.” He looked down at his hands. “To try, anyway. What I did… sealing his Keyblade… it was wrong, guys,” he said, his voice small. “Master Eraqus did what he had to, I know. Vanitas left him no choice. But… I think Vanitas knew what was happening. He was angry… he was _really_ angry, but… I felt fear, too.”

It hadn’t been the unease of inconvenience, either. It had been true, ice-cold _fear_ \-- not at the loss of a weapon, but of something else. Something closer and dearer than that.

Ven had known exactly what it was at the time -- and he had gone through with it, anyway. Perhaps he had done the right thing in following his orders, but… it still didn’t feel right. There was a lingering stab of guilt there, not in the action itself, but in the thought that he, of all people, should have taken pity on Vanitas right then. Not because Vanitas deserved it, but because Ven was the only one who could have seen past that fury for what it really was.

Fear of losing something invaluable.

“Do you know where he might be?”

Aqua’s question broke the heavy silence, momentarily pushing away Ven’s unease as it gave him something new to focus on. The Badlands were gone. The World That Never Was would be a bad place to go if Vanitas wished to avoid being found. Other than that… “...No,” he admitted, deflating a little. “Not a clue.”

She reached over and smoothed his hair back. “It’s all right. It sounds like you’ve put a lot of thought into this,” she said fondly, offering him an encouraging smile. “Don’t worry about it too much, Ven. We’re not going to ignore you. We’ll figure something out, together.”

“Right,” said Terra. “If you say he has no reason to threaten anybody, then confrontations shouldn’t be an issue. It gives us time to think of something.” He still didn’t seem very enthusiastic about Ven’s propositions, but Ven recognized the reassurance regardless.

Right. Vanitas was smart. He wouldn’t go picking unnecessary fights, especially when he surely knew he was a wanted fugitive at this point. Finding him was another problem, but until then there was probably nothing to worry about.

* * *

Vanitas hit the ground in a graceless heap, what felt like his entire body wracked with pain. He forced himself through it and rolled onto his knees, only narrowly raising his Keyblade in time to cast Firaga. It was weak, it wasn’t the ideal element considering his opponent, but it was the easiest to cast and Vanitas was only looking to buy himself time. In that regard it worked, causing Lea to swerve out of its path and allowing Vanitas to drag himself to his feet.

He was covered in sweat, more from the heat than exertion, and the droplets that ran into his wounds made them sting all the more. He bore a number of open gashes on his arms and sides specifically, but far worse were the places where he had been scalded by Lea’s fire: his clothing had melted into his skin, making each movement pull at his raw burns.

Lea wasn’t without injury in return, but his were much less troubling. Other than a thin line of blood dripping from his hairline and a couple stains on his dark coat, he was no worse for the wear. His posture was unchanged, as well, whereas Vanitas was having trouble maintaining his own. Lea must have recognized it, because he hesitated. He was still tensed, still with his weapons at the ready, but he looked directly -- pointedly -- at Vanitas’ face, as if expecting something…

No. As if waiting. He wasn’t as obvious as Riku, but he was still offering Vanitas a way out. He was giving him the opportunity to surrender the Keyblade with no further risk.

That show of would-be pity prompted a proud spike of anger deep in Vanitas’ chest, much hotter than the surrounding flames. Regardless, he didn’t let it spur him into acting hastily. There was no question in his mind now that he could very well die here if he wasn’t careful.

He needed to get out of here. He wasn’t so proud that he couldn’t bail when necessary, but that would be easier said than done. Even if he could get time to open a Corridor, go through, and close it, Lea could still use them. And if he had succeeded in finding Vanitas where the others had failed… chances were good that he either knew his way around that realm pretty well, or he had a method of tracking that Vanitas wasn’t aware of. Whatever the case, shaking him off wouldn’t be a simple task. Vanitas would need to delay him somehow, long enough to put some distance between them. He had an idea, but timing was key.

He rushed Lea again. Both chakrams whizzed, but Vanitas leaped over them and cast Thundaga at the height of his jump. Lea dodged most of it, but it bought Vanitas enough time to recover from his stumble as he landed. Everything hurt, moving and simply _breathing_ made it worse, but he shoved his misery to the back of his mind as he had been taught. As Lea closed in, Vanitas brought his free hand around and cast Blizzaga at the same time that the flames on those chakrams brightened and leaped. Fire and ice clashed with a roar and an ear-piercing hiss, a burst of steam erupting and enveloping both fighters.

Vanitas retreated, but Lea was quick: one of the chakrams came slicing through the cloud at shoulder-height. Vanitas deflected with his Keyblade, but the angle was bad and suddenly Lea was _there_ \--

Two of the chakram’s spokes slashed across Vanitas’ chest. It wasn’t a superficial blow, either, but one that drew a spray of blood and a loud snarl. Fighting the urge to stiffen, Vanitas threw his energy and frustration into ducking as fast as he was able, but even that was too slow: hot steel slammed into his back as the first chakram rebounded, raking up his shoulder blade and across his shoulder proper. Another splash of crimson painted the air. He tried to reverse his stumble, but Lea was still too close, still moving in a follow-up swing. Vanitas had no choice but to raise his bare arm for defense as he swerved aside, and paid for it as the chakram’s point stabbed into his forearm and out the other side. Choking down his distress, he wrenched free with a terrible ripping sound -- more blood -- even as he brought his Keyblade down in a hard slash. It sliced down Lea’s shoulder, but it was too shallow to even serve as a decent distraction.

 _Distraction._ That was the priority now. Vanitas jumped back, clenching his left fist as blood continued to pound and ooze from his injuries. By now he could see it coating his skin through the tear in his sleeve.

He feigned another retreat. As Lea followed Vanitas immediately reversed direction and darted forward, turning on his heel to evade the next attack and slipping around Lea’s side at the cost of his balance. It was poor positioning for an attack, but that wasn’t his intention. Instead he whipped his left arm forward with a hard twist, and the blood pooling in his messy puncture wound splattered through the air and straight into Lea’s eyes.

He recoiled with a shout, momentarily blinded. What was left of Vanitas’ balance gave and he fell hard on his injured hip, grunting as he bit back a cry but still forcing himself to move and scramble to his feet.

_Now._

He focused on his pent-up feelings, all the negativity he kept tightly bound in his heart, to pull a little bit from it and give it shape as Unversed. That focus was interrupted as the air suddenly grew even hotter. Lea had crouched down to slam one palm against the dirt, and from that point of contact more flames spiraled outward, this time covering the ground like--

 _“Che.”_ Vanitas turned and ran, raking the tip of his Keyblade along the ground as he cast again. Ice followed the weapon’s point to form a thin sheet over the grass. He leaped onto it even as the flames caught up, the ice hissing against the heat as he slid over it, but the entirety of the makeshift arena’s floor was already flaring.

A chakram flew past him, missing him by a good couple feet, but as it reached the end of its toss, Lea suddenly appeared with it.

He could _teleport_ \--?

Vanitas kicked off of his ice platform, his momentum still carrying him with enough force to make a hard swing as he leaped straight at Lea. The older wielder hurled his weapons; Vanitas twisted sharply, avoiding both, but his strike cut nothing but air as Lea disappeared again.

_Behind--_

Again Vanitas cast Blizzaga, landing on another safely frozen space, and quickly whirled around right as Lea caught up with him. They clashed in another clang of steel, but Lea had summoned his Keyblade once more and the force of the two-handed strike caught Vanitas off guard. He slipped on the ice, one knee giving out -- but strangely Lea let up, withdrawing and quickly moving aside--

\--to dodge his two chakrams as they returned from their arc. Slow, precariously balanced in his awkward kneel, and unsteady on the patch of ice, Vanitas had no chance of moving from their path. He struck at one with his Keyblade, but the strength of the collision knocked him backwards just as well as it knocked the chakram off-course. Undeterred, the second one followed up -- and unable to recover in time, Vanitas could only watch as it slammed into him, one of the larger spokes stabbing straight into his chest.

That was a different kind of pain. It wasn’t something he could grit his teeth and ignore -- it was intense, stunning his mind and his nerves as they struggled to come to terms with this untouched level of agony. He hit the ground on his back, unaware that the earth was normal once more. He was too intent on the chakram embedded in his torso, the crippling strain in his chest that made him want to curl in on himself and remain absolutely still all at once. Breathing hurt; holding his breath hurt worse, so he tried to steady his throaty gasps into something mildly less telling, but it was in vain.

Not yet. _Not yet._

Releasing Ventus’ Keyblade, Vanitas grasped at the chakram in swiftly weakening fingers. He would only have one shot at this. In the corner of his discolored vision he saw Lea approach, but Vanitas ignored him, tucked his tongue tightly against the roof of his mouth, and put everything he had into pushing against that hot steel -- and nearly gagged on the bile and the suppressed scream that gathered in his throat, the only reactions his body could fathom to give as the iron shaft shifted and agitated the raw edges of his injury--

\--and then suddenly it was gone, swiftly removed with a speed and strength that Vanitas no longer possessed. Through watery eyes he stared up at Lea, who had dismissed both of his bloody chakrams in a flash. Despite his clear victory, he looked grim. The skin around his eyes was still smeared with Vanitas’ blood.

“I overdid it a bit,” he admitted with a sigh, scratching the back of his head. “But you sure gave me a run for my money.”

 _Don’t_ , Vanitas wanted to say, _pity doesn’t suit you,_ but his voice was only a low gurgle in his throat. He tasted blood. A lot of it.

Lea crouched beside him, looking him over with that same solemn expression. “Good fight,” he remarked. “But you’re done.” Vanitas’ glare grew hotter. Lea met it evenly. “Luckily, I’m not a sore winner. I don’t see any reason why the worlds need to lose another wielder… and you can’t be any worse off there than you are now.”

_There?_

...No.

Lea reached over to pick up Ventus’ Keyblade. As his fingers closed around it, a flash of light glimmered over the body with a sound like a chain link breaking. It recognized him as a wielder. It had accepted his touch.

No.

_No._

_**No.** _

It had rejected Vanitas -- it was useless as anything other than a bludgeoning weapon -- but that was beside the point. Vanitas was without Keyblade, without his full potential, without a part of himself, without purpose -- without guidance. That Keyblade was his only chance at regaining some of what he’d lost, whether it chose to accept him one day or he simply figured out how to use it as a bargaining chip. It was all he had left, aside from his life -- but how valuable was the latter, really, when he felt emptier than he ever had?

He was angry. Angry that his long-running plan continued to fall apart, angry at this stupid Keyblade, angry at his own weakness, angry at this would-be self-righteous idiot -- and angry at Ventus most of all. Even now, broken and vulnerable and helpless and miles away, Ventus was once again proving to be dangerous. Not through any power of his own, but that of his bonds, the people who loved him and cared enough to fight for him, to die for him.

_My friends are my power. And I’m theirs._

Vanitas had sneered at that, years ago.

He wasn’t sneering anymore.

 _“I don’t… need--”_ he spat, but Lea rolled his eyes.

“Oh, shut up. Wouldn’t sit right with me to finish you off, but leaving you like this… well, that’s a bad taste in my mouth, too. Besides, I don’t think Master Eraqus is the kind of guy who likes to leave loose ends.”

Lea was going to take him back to the Land of Departure. And from there, Vanitas really had no hope of escape. He had lost. Again.

Vanitas was hardly sane to begin with. For all his self-control, patience, and intelligence, there was something more than darkness that made him so drastically different from Ventus. His utter disregard for anything besides himself, his disinterest -- and perhaps inability, at this point -- in sympathizing with others, the morbid satisfaction and even _pleasure_ he experienced when causing unnecessary pain… those were all him. And every time he humored those impulses, he felt it, that pull of his heart to give in _entirely_ and let his nature take total control. Yet even without that extra push, Vanitas had always been aware that he wasn’t normal. Xehanort had made that clear. He was a twisted mockery of existence, unnatural, tamed only by the self-control that his Master had rigidly taught him.

Sanity was a measurement among real people. Whole people, which Vanitas was not. If he were to be compared by those standards, he would most certainly have been called crazy.

And yet it was only now, in this moment, that he truly, finally _snapped._

He let go of that self-control. Everything Xehanort had drilled into him for four years straight, day in and day out, vanished in an instant as he let his anger rise into rage, his rage boil into fury, and that fury overtake him completely. His heart gave into the pull.

He would _not_ have his fate decided by anyone else. Killing him was one thing. Making choices for him was unacceptable.

This time, the act wasn’t a conscious thought. He felt his negativity branch out of its own accord, deep shadows twining around his body like smoke -- and then it suddenly lashed out like a whip, growing solid and striking Lea hard enough to knock him backwards. In his surprise he lost his grip on Ventus’ Keyblade.

From the shadows leaped Unversed. Vaguely similar to the usual four-legged breeds Vanitas created, these ones were more twisted, pitch black in color and boasting too many elongated, twitching limbs that gave them a nightmarish look.

It had been a long time since he’d seen this type. Unlike the kind he created willingly, with conscious thought, these were the by-products of the emotions Vanitas couldn’t control. Ugly and wild.

And in seconds there were dozens of them, far more than he could have normally summoned in such a short span of time.

Lea’s Keyblade was out in the second it took him to recover. He eyed the Unversed with a narrow gaze, finally settling on Vanitas as the latter slowly, laboriously forced himself up onto his knees, and then finally his feet. His injuries continued to burn and ache, but it only made him angrier, and with it came renewed energy. One of the Unversed snatched up Ventus’ Keyblade in its jaws and returned to him, passing it to him via some subconscious command. All the while Vanitas held Lea’s stare, even as he extended his left hand to open a Corridor directly behind himself. Even that simple motion made his back ripple with agony and the holes in his chest and arm throb, but Vanitas took it and funneled everything -- his pain, his fury, his hatred, his spite, his smug satisfaction at regaining the upper hand -- into a sharp, arrogant smile.

 _Maybe next time,_ it said. With that he turned away, limping into the portal as the Unversed surged forward. He didn’t look back.

The darkness was welcome. Away from the heat and blazing light of those flames, Vanitas felt his mind instantly grow clearer. His emotions were still a mess, still bubbling over with bitter hostility, but he would reign them back in with a little more time. More importantly, he needed to find someplace to recover before Lea found a way through the Unversed. _If_ he did.

The last of his angry strength was waning. He couldn’t travel far. He bypassed a few worlds, not wanting to default to anything too close to the one he had just left, but pickings were slim. He caught sight of one further back than the rest, which was probably as far as he could go in his current state. Once close enough, he concentrated and opened another Corridor.

He emerged into bright sunlight, which was disappointing. Fortunately it was the softer light of dawn, so it was easy enough to turn his back on the sun rising over the distant mountain peaks -- but he didn’t realize that he stood on the crest of a low hill, and a simple slip of his footing was more than his battered body could handle. He hit grass and rolled, and while it was probably no more than five seconds it felt more like a full minute, each tumble making him hiss and snarl until he came to a stop on his back. His hard-earned, useless weapon landed beside him. There, as the last of his adrenaline faded to leave him broken and weak and finished, he finally let out the angry, distressed cry he’d been holding back.

Nobody answered, for which he was glad.

His head was swimming and his sight was swiftly darkening, but Vanitas managed to cast one blurry glance at his surroundings. A wide, empty field. Trees. A paved road half a mile off. Beyond, mountains and a wide sky.

Unfamiliar. Unimportant. But not the worst place to die.

Heavy with bone-deep exhaustion, Vanitas’ eyes fell closed and shut out the light. With it went his discomfort, his thoughts, and everything else.

* * *

“I’ll get it, Terra. You help Ven back upstairs,” Aqua offered, slipping the last of the dishes into the soapy sink water.

He gave a short laugh. “You’re assuming he’ll go back.”

She shook her head. “You at least need to get dressed, Ven. But if you’re really feeling so well, I think it’ll be fine if we go outside for a--” She cast a glance over her shoulder, but her smile immediately faded. “Ven?”

He was still seated at the table, but now he was staring intently out the window, his eyes wide and alert and yet cloudy and distant at the same time. His hand was over his heart, fingers grasping loosely at his shirt.

Terra also noticed. “Ven,” he repeated, his previous humor gone. “What is it?”

Ven blinked, but his stare and strange expression remained. His grip tightened into a fist.

“...Something’s wrong,” he whispered.

* * *

He awoke to touch, and that in itself was unusual.

Vanitas had initiated contact with Ventus a few times, sure, but only out of hostility or necessity -- or both -- and it was always with force, always with the strength that he didn’t really know how to curb. He wasn’t used to receiving touch, either. He could have counted on one hand the number of times he recalled physical contact with Xehanort, even. Always brief, only ever necessary, and never personal.

That was what confused him now. Even before opening his eyes, he felt the brush of what had to be fingers against his face -- but they weren’t rough, or even firm. The touch was… gentle? Was that it? It was such a strange sensation that it registered several seconds before anything else -- but then, sure enough, the pains and aches, burns and cuts and everything else came rushing back and he tensed, a low groan escaping his throat.

He tried to open his eyes, but harsh sunlight made them water and he shut them tight again. The strange touch retreated, but then returned a moment later, even lighter than before. He thought he heard a voice speak, but his head was ringing and pounding on top of the instinctual, inward alarms that screamed at him to get up, to pull away from the unknown, and he didn’t catch the words. He tried to move, but sharp stabbing sensations rippled over his body, effectively paralyzing him as he was forced to give up on the attempt.

 _This’ll be a pathetic way to go,_ he mused bitterly. In hindsight, he could have tried to hang around Lea long enough to at least die against a worthy opponent. Not like this, crippled and dazed and helpless.

With those thoughts running through his foggy mind, the last thing Vanitas expected was to feel the sudden touch of healing magic. It wasn’t the kind he was used to, either. Maybe it was simply devoid of darkness’ touch, unlike his and the Master’s spells, but he thought it felt… fuller. Deeper, somehow. He wasn’t sure how to describe it.

The pain lessened considerably. His burns still hurt, but no longer felt like literal fire in his skin. The worst of his wounds closed and stopped bleeding; the smaller ones disappeared altogether. His head quieted and cleared, and he felt… calmer. Peaceful, even, if he had to give a word for it, although he would never have described himself as such otherwise. On the outskirts of his mind he knew it was unnatural, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. The feeling was soothing -- it was _nice_ , and he had nothing to compare it to, nothing to say it was wrong.

The sun on his eyelids fell from a glare to a glow. Again, he tried opening them -- and this time he was successful, although it still took several heartbeats for his hazy vision to make sense of anything.

And then he tensed so hard that his entire body jerked.

Those were indeed hands against his face. Soft palms cupped his jaw on either side, holding him in place -- because the person they belonged to was kneeling over him, close enough that their foreheads touched. The two of them were literally nose-to-nose.

Reflex and survival instinct took over. With renewed adrenaline spurring him through the pain Vanitas planted his forearm against the opposing chest and shoved. There was a startled yelp as the person was knocked backwards and off of him -- but while his plan had been to keep moving, to reverse their positions and pin the other one down until he assessed the threat level, Vanitas’ mind was several steps ahead of his current ability. He only succeeded in falling on his face, his body having only been good for that one burst of energy. Discomfort spiked all over him in varying degrees of intensity, but he gritted his teeth, braced against it, and pushed himself onto his side, a slow and strenuous effort. All the while, he refused to make a sound.

“It’s all right,” said the same voice from before. “You’re safe--” Vanitas’ head snapped up when he realized it had drawn closer, and only then did he finally get a clear look at the other person.

Female. A girl -- no, a woman, definitely older than his technical age. She wore a concerned expression on a face that was somehow sharply defined and soft at the same time, her eyes an intense blue and fixed on him attentively. Hair blonde enough to put Ventus’ to shame was tied back above her head. She wore a white, knee-length dress with no sleeves and carried no visible weapons.

“Please, I mean you no harm,” she insisted coolly. In her voice was an accent that he didn’t recognize from any past worlds. “Your wounds are very serious. I can continue to heal them, if you--”

“Why.” Vanitas’ voice was thick and strained. He could have demanded her name, or that of the world they were in, but neither would have meant anything to him. The better question was why she had bothered tending to a mangled stranger out in the middle of nowhere.

The woman’s face took on a solemn, serious, and almost authoritative air. “...Because I can,” she replied.

Oh. So she was one of _those_ people.

It made Vanitas scowl inwardly, but at the same time, he knew it was the better of many options. An annoying do-gooder beat running into an enemy, especially if Vanitas got something out of it. And besides, he didn’t doubt that she was being honest -- not because she had healed him some already, but because his jumbled senses caught up with him at last and he noticed what he already should have.

Warmth. Light. A _bright_ light, pure and unstained by the shadows that made up his own heart.

It was coming from her. And yet he had seen all seven Princesses of Heart before and she definitely wasn’t one of them.

“Who’re you supposed to be?” he grunted.

The woman clasped her hands in her lap as she bowed her head briefly. That admittedly puzzled him, because bows were a form of reverence, weren’t they? A gesture reserved for authority.

“My name,” she told him, “is Lunafreya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y E P. For those concerned about FFXV spoilers in the next chapter, there won't be any! This is a timepoint from early in the game AND I'll be using KH rules to put a slight canon-divergence spin on this world (which may have already been obvious from this one scene alone), so it won't go too deep into the plot.


	13. Queensglaive

“Are you one of the refugees?”

The question came once Vanitas had more or less caught his breath. Reluctantly recognizing his own uselessness at the moment, he’d allowed Lunafreya to help him over to a stone against which he now sat and leaned. They were still at the foot of the hill he’d arrived on, but the sun was over the crest and left them in cool shade. The stone at his back was almost cold, a bit of relief for his remaining bruises and burns.

She waited patiently for his answer, once again kneeling beside him but this time a little beyond arm’s length. She’d caught on quickly to his preference for personal space. Her white dress was now speckled and smeared with his blood, but she either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“Something like that,” he replied finally. He barely recognized his own voice, as thin and weak as it sounded, but the sarcasm and indifference were still heavy in his tone. He inhaled slowly, trying to draw a full breath -- and only succeeded in provoking a hot bolt of pain between his ribs that made him gasp sharply and fall into a coughing fit. That made it about ten times worse. As he doubled over and did his best to fight the stars in his darkening vision, he felt those gentle hands again, this time on his shoulders. Despite the reflex to immediately wrench away, Vanitas could only let her support him while he tried not to pass out.

An agonizing amount of time later, the coughs faded and he leaned back again. The touch fell away and he eyed the dainty-looking woman with what would have normally been a look of skepticism, but now probably only came off tired at best. She missed it, too busy scanning his body with an anxious frown.

“The bleeding has stopped, but the damage is still...” She turned to him again with the type of kind-hearted, earnest look that he hated. “Allow me to help. You won’t make it far otherwise.”

There was nothing to think about. Vanitas needed healing, plain and simple, and lacked the energy himself to cast any worthwhile spells (and that was assuming they would be of any help in their reduced state). Regardless, he didn’t reply right away, but took a few seconds to let his frustration run its course and fizzle out. No decisions, even small ones, should be made unless he was as levelheaded as possible.

He gave a slight nod. Lunafreya offered a brief, grim smile before moving closer and reaching again for his face. Exhausted though he was, it still took some effort not to recoil or knock her hands aside. This time, at least, there was no actual contact, even if she was still uncomfortably close. And this time, as she closed her eyes and bowed her head towards his (a ridiculously trusting gesture, he thought, even if he wasn’t too much of a threat right then), he immediately recognized her power for what it really was: light. The same bright light in her heart. The same light that made him uncomfortable and surlier than usual. That light was in her magic; it was the source of that pleasant feeling from before that had flowed into him and through him.

It wasn’t like Ventus. Ventus’ light was familiar, but it always hurt to touch because it agitated old, invisible scars. Ventus’ light felt cold and hard and almost mocking, something that had been taken away from Vanitas and would never be his again. Not that he cared. Ventus could keep that part of them. And yet each time they had rejoined their hearts, especially lately, Vanitas had been left with an icy ache in his chest afterward, a feeling akin to losing his breath, although it had been more mental than physical. Ventus, in comparison, had seemed fine.

Lunafreya’s light was strange to him, but it wasn’t harsh. It didn’t push or pull at his heart. It was only there to heal, settling on his injuries with a cool relief and easy pressure that his own curative spells could only wish for. The pins and needles in his lungs faded, as did the feeling of his chest being squeezed. It didn’t return any of his strength, but healing magic never did. That wasn’t its purpose.

Her light was a warmth separate from the heat of the day clinging to his skin, so comfortable and relaxing that it started to lull him into a half-dazed state that wasn’t quite sleep, wasn’t quite waking, and for a few of his sluggish heartbeats that was all right with him. He felt his guard drop, but that light was so encompassing and strong that it would be fine, surely, for him to just let go and trust somebody else for once--

_Trust._

The very thought of that offensive, foreign word jerked him back to his senses faster than a slap to the face. “Enough.” His voice was stronger. Whether it came from the healing or his own resolve, he couldn’t say.

Lunafreya obeyed, the glow in her hands fading as she pulled back. The inebriated feeling went with it, and to that Vanitas said good riddance. He could gladly do without the light’s brainwashing influence.

Again he took his time, testing his improvement with small motions and deeper breaths. He still ached all over, inside and out, but he was certain he was no longer in danger of dying. After some rest he could begin treating himself and start the road to a proper recovery.

Meanwhile, Lunafreya continued to steal glimpses at the sky, the horizon, and back again. When Vanitas relaxed, as satisfied as he could be with his assessment, she spoke up. “Can you walk?”

Her glances hadn’t gone over his head. She was watching for something. “What is it?” he asked.

“Night will fall soon,” she told him gravely. He stared, skeptical.

“And?”

Judging by her expression, he guessed he’d just asked something incredibly stupid by this world’s standards. “You won’t stand a chance against the daemons as you are,” she said, patient despite his ignorance. “I urge you not to try.” She turned and pointed toward the road, which ran parallel to the mountain range until it was lost in the distance. “The closest town is this way. If we start soon, we should be able to make it there before dusk.”

There were several questions to be asked there, but Vanitas only cared about one. _“We?”_

Lunafreya nodded without hesitation. “Leaving you here would be leaving you to die. I won’t do that.”

First Lea, now her… Did everybody have to try and be such a hero? It was annoying, but even more annoying was that she was right. However dangerous these “daemons” were by his normal standards, odds were good it wouldn’t take much to strike Vanitas down as he currently was. He was no longer spurting blood everywhere, but he was still run ragged, battered and stiff and compromised. He could hold his own for a short time if pushed, but any serious fight would be a brief, one-sided affair.

“...I’m going to guess we’re walking the whole way,” he said dryly.

“Yes, unfortunately. The Empire’s erected blockades on the main roads, so I don’t believe we’ll see much traffic.”

Well, there was nothing to it but to get started. Taking up Ventus’ Keyblade once more, Vanitas stabbed it into the ground for support as he tried to rise. Nearly every part of his body objected. He froze mid-motion, setting his jaw and doing his best to keep his breathing steady. This was going to be a _long_ journey.

“Allow me.” Lunafreya was on her feet with a speed Vanitas could only envy, offering both her hands. He glared at her, but he was past the delusion of thinking he could still function on stubbornness of will alone. Placing one hand in hers, he worked with her to climb to his feet, silently appreciative that she didn’t rush him. Once standing, he didn’t object to the supportive hand on his shoulder, which probably kept him upright as his mind adjusted to the sudden movement and tried to work out his sense of balance. She was over a head taller than he was. “We have a couple hours,” she informed him. “Only go as fast as you’re able. I can--”

A small chill crawled up the back of Vanitas’ neck. He went still as his senses sharpened and strained to identify the source, shoving Lunafreya’s voice to the background. Something was close. Several somethings, moving quickly, _very close--_

“Quiet,” he snapped. As she instantly fell silent Vanitas cast a quick look around, but there was still only sunlight and shadows-- except… the shade they stood in was _too_ dark. He recognized this presence.

No sooner had he thought that did several dark shapes suddenly rise out of the ground, their yellow eyes bright and leering at the two humans on which they had settled.

_Great._

“Here?” he heard Lunafreya breathe in surprise.

Pulling away from her, Vanitas turned to face the Heartless as he wrenched the Keyblade free. For now he kept it at his side, unwilling to expend energy until the last possible moment. “These your daemons?” he asked.

“No -- I’ve only seen these creatures once before, but I--”

Two of the Shadows leaped. Training, reflexes, and instinct overrode his biting pain enough for Vanitas to cut them down in a single swing, but even that simple maneuver took a lot out of him. He nearly stumbled at the end of it, his chest tight and throbbing.

More Heartless spawned. Soon he’d be surrounded, and if their numbers kept growing it wouldn’t take long for this battle to end. He was already thinking several steps ahead, analyzing the worst of his injuries, the terrain, how much energy he could dare to spend per attack -- and in doing so he had already disregarded Lunafreya so entirely that he almost forgot she was present.

She reminded him by stepping up beside him. “These creatures are strange to me, but I can tell you they seek my life,” she said calmly. “There is no need for you to get involved.”

So the Heartless had targeted her prior. Made sense, given that heart of light she was sporting. “Not just you,” he corrected. “Anybody with a heart, so I’m involved either way.” She glanced over at him, and even in his peripheral vision he could tell she was frowning.

“I’ll do what I can,” she started, “but I don’t think I can hold them for long--”

“Then I guess it’s your lucky day,” he interrupted. She stared at him, and this time he met her gaze. “If you can’t fight, you’ll be in my way. Go.”

The confusion on her face was ironic. After going out of her way for him, was it so strange to receive assistance in return? Not that Vanitas felt obligated to repay any favors. He didn’t care what happened to her in the slightest. But if he was going to die here -- and the chances of that looked very, very good right then -- he would at least go down _doing_ something. It wasn’t personal, but it was still a goal. A purpose, the very thing he had been lacking for weeks now. He would die with meaning, however insignificant the act, and that was better than dying here by chance, simply because he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time after a string of bad decisions.

Even if he could do nothing more than make these Heartless stumble over his body -- even if he failed -- that was fine by him. It was still something, and it was better to die fighting than to be caught while trying to flee.

There were over a dozen Shadows now, and their confidence in numbers overcame their fear of the Keyblade’s presence. They charged.

Lunafreya still hadn’t backed down, so as Vanitas lunged forward he also pushed her back with his left hand -- a final order to _go_ if she valued her life in the slightest, but primarily his attempt to make sure she didn’t intervene and distract him. He brought Ventus’ Keyblade above his shoulder, and the instant he was close enough he loosed a wide strike to take out the first row of Heartless--

\--and the Keyblade responded. Its white blade flickered and flashed, the grip humming against his palm with life. Light flared and cut through the Heartless, killing several and knocking the rest backwards with a shockwave of force. Vanitas stopped, staring hard at the Keyblade in a blend of shock and suspicion.

_Now? Why--_ He snapped out of the thought and blocked another attack, countered with a slash.

A month of dormancy, of ignoring him, but now -- now it accepted him. With that acceptance came a small surge of energy as the Keyblade connected with his heart, binding its will to his own, and with that realization came a renewed source of confidence.

He cut through several more enemies, blasting those out of reach with Firaga as his sudden power high pushed his body beyond its previous limits. The spell was full-strength once more, the Keyblade more than a simple sword now.

The _how_ didn’t matter just yet. Now, he could fight.

He turned sharply at the end of his trek, scanning the remaining numbers and realizing that more breeds than just Shadows had joined the fray. Several larger Heartless now stood between Vanitas and Lunafreya, targeted on the latter, but she still didn’t run. She faced them, backing away slowly, but it wouldn’t be long before they attacked her.

Vanitas turned away. It wasn’t his problem. He had enough to worry about just looking after himself, and it wasn’t as though he was suddenly going to start--

He felt a pull on his heart. Unlike that of his darkness, this one was soft but firm, not overwhelming as much as eager. At the same time he felt warmth flow through the Keyblade -- the warmth of light. As eager as he was to keep its trust, he heeded the tug and followed the sensation, letting it guide his gaze -- and found himself looking at Lunafreya again.

_Her?_

The Keyblade buzzed in his fingers a second time.

And then everything clicked neatly into place and made a frustrating kind of sense.

The Shadows jumped at him again, but Vanitas was gone in a blur. He closed the distance to Lunafreya in a heartbeat, twisting in the air to intercept the round Heartless that had charged straight for her. He landed on his feet with a grunt as pain shot through every joint and nerve, but his muscles still obeyed and raked the Keyblade across the Heartless’ shoulders to send its head rolling. Without stopping he turned to strike down the next one, the one after that, any and every Heartless that tried to sneak around to the woman behind him.

It was no more than half a dozen, but he was panting by the time he finally reached a lull in the wave of enemies, each shaky breath akin to a fist striking his chest. Unfazed by the death of their comrades, Heartless continued to spawn out of the field.

“Stay there. Don’t do anything stupid,” Vanitas commanded over his shoulder. “I’ll handle them.” Lunafreya didn’t respond. As somebody who had taken orders all his life, he decided her silence was a good sign.

_I get it,_ he snapped silently, as if the Keyblade could hear his thoughts. Then again, maybe it could. _She’s somebody important. And you’re even willing to cooperate with me to make sure nothing happens to her. And if I want your power…_

He had to cooperate in turn.

He had to _protect_ her.

Assuming his battle stance, Vanitas did a quick headcount. A lot of Heartless and the number was still growing. With his injuries it would be hard enough getting through this on his own, let alone with the extra baggage. He couldn’t watch Lunafreya and his own back at the same time.

Then again, he didn’t have to.

Quickly, he focused, and then risked glancing backwards just long enough to will some negativity into being. A handful of dark shapes hit the ground, grew, and took form as Floods, watching him expectantly for instruction. That small number was all he could manage at the moment.

Vanitas didn’t wait for Lunafreya’s reaction -- but just to make sure she understood the situation, he gave his order out loud as he turned back to the Heartless. “Don’t let anything near her.” He took a deep breath, braced himself, and then charged forward, intending to draw the enemy’s attention entirely to himself. For the time being, it worked.

Even with the Keyblade assisting him, his chances looked slim. Knowing that didn’t change his mind, not when running was pointless, but he had no delusions about the odds. Every movement hurt, but every movement had reason. Every bit of power spent, every scratch received, every spell that pulled at what was left of his swiftly dwindling energy -- he both hated and relished it all. He’d thought the loss of his full power had been an inconvenience, but only now did he realize how sorely he had missed it. Not just because his survival depended on it, but because it was only one of very few things he could call his own.

His Keyblade, his ability, his life. He had lost the first and was probably about to lose the third -- but if he died with only his power sustaining him to the end, for a reason of his choosing, it was better than nothing. Even if death here meant the agony of having his heart ripped from his chest and an afterlife as a Heartless drone, he would still make his last moments count for nothing but his own sake. He would die feeling truly like himself again; he would die doing what he loved.

Even as he was knocked to the ground again, this time making it no farther than his hands and knees when he tried to rise, that thought made Vanitas cough out a wet, rasping laugh. _How do you like that, Ventus? Guess I figured it out, after all._ He cast Fira, knocking the closest Heartless back, but Keyblade’s enthusiasm wasn’t enough. He was totally spent, pure and simple. He had just enough strength for one last attack, maybe -- and as irony would have it, he realized right then that the enemy’s number was much lower than before. They were no longer spawning in.

He raised Ventus’ Keyblade and took aim at the group, putting everything he had into concentrating his dark magic into the tip of the blade. A blue-black orb swelled into being, building up power and momentum, but he already knew it wasn’t enough. The Heartless that remained were still too many for him to dispose of, exhausted and trembling like he was. Those that weren’t killed by this blow would immediately rush him and finish what Lea had started.

_Make it count,_ he thought bitterly. It was all he could do. Right as he was about to unleash the attack, he felt Lunafreya’s bright light draw near again. He resisted the urge to glance over, even when she suddenly knelt beside him. He could have snapped at her, but that would be using energy he didn’t have. Instead, he only watched as she placed both her hands around his own to help him support the Keyblade -- which reacted with a flash, pure white light encasing the whole body at once. It was brighter than any time Vanitas had held it, brighter even than when Lea touched it. He felt Lunafreya tense, but unlike him she didn’t cringe at the light.

When it faded a moment later, Vanitas noticed that the Heartless had drawn back warily -- but now they hurried forward again. Lunafreya still didn’t flinch. The Unversed scurried into view and slammed into the first line of Heartless, but the others kept coming.

More importantly, he realized that the magic at the end of the Keyblade was growing, almost doubled in size. It had also lightened to shades of gold and white. This time he did look at Lunafreya, who turned and met his gaze calmly.

He didn’t have to ask. He didn’t have any time to be proud, either. He reached up and closed his left hand over Lunafreya’s small fist, his fingers settling almost naturally along the grooves between her knuckles. He was leaning on her more than he would have liked to admit, depending on the quiet strength in her slender arms to help him hold his weapon steady, but he could be spiteful later.

Allowing her light to mingle with his darkness -- welcoming it, even -- was unpleasant, and he had to stifle the desire to reject it. The light was strong, much stronger than her frail and simple appearance would suggest, and he would take what he could get.

Vanitas focused, directing all of Lunafreya’s passive power into the Keyblade along with what little he had left to offer. Only when it was a struggle to keep it restrained did he finally release it, the force of the shot knocking him backwards. Lunafreya’s grip kept him upright.

The magic collided with the Heartless group almost faster than even he could follow. Light flooded the area. He felt the Unversed die, their negativity immediately flowing back into him, and sensed that the presence of the Heartless was no more. It was over. For now.

And _for now_ was all Vanitas could be bothered to worry about, because that last bit of energy had been the only thing keeping him conscious. He swayed, vaguely aware of Lunafreya’s arm around his shoulders as she tried to catch him. He was unconscious before he determined whether she was successful or not.

* * *

“I told you _not_ to fight him.”

Lea withheld a sigh as he leaned back against the railing in front of his apartment. He’d expected a lecture eventually, but coming home to find Terra literally waiting on his doorstep had been a surprise. Crossing his arms over his chest, he corrected, “Actually, you told me not to _confront_ him. Once I’d done that, there was nothing else really holding me back, you know?”

_“Lea.”_

“Re _lax_ , you said he was dangerous and I kept that in mind. Good thing, too. If not for Ven’s Keyblade spazzing out, I can see how that kid would be a real handful.” Lea cracked his neck, wincing a bit. He’d healed up since, but the small army that Vanitas had left him with had knocked him around quite a bit. It hadn’t seemed right to just flee and leave the creatures running wild in that world, so Lea had stuck around and finished them off, with a few faded bruises and cuts to show for it.

Terra’s stern expression faltered. “Spazzing out?” he repeated.

“Yup. His magic was pretty subpar, considering his reputation.” Lea tilted his head back to stare at the twilight sky, thinking. “His hits were strong, but they were all muscle. Not to mention I actually did get my hands on the thing for a minute, and it didn’t exactly fight back.” Terra continued to stare at him, but it was obvious some gears were grinding hard behind that gaze. “I appreciate the warning about his face, by the way,” Lea added. “Creepy. But you _could’ve_ mentioned the whole ‘spitting demon spawn from his body’ thing.”

Terra’s expression broke and returned to that scolding father look he clearly had down pat. “I could’ve told you a lot more about him if I’d wanted you to fight him. But if I knew you’d ignore what I asked you to do, I wouldn’t have--”

“Hey, except for the part where I miserably failed my objective, it all went without a hitch. I handled it just fine.”

“Yeah, you did,” Terra snapped. “You handled Vanitas so well that Ven felt it.”

Lea stared. “What?”

Terra hesitated, immediately looking as though he regretted that outburst. “...Sorry. I didn’t mean it like -- Ven’s fine. He’s just worried.”

“Well, you can tell ‘im I’m alive and well. No problem there.”

“Not just about you.”

Terra was doing a really good job of throwing Lea for a loop in this conversation. “What?” he repeated.

“...Master Eraqus wants Vanitas alive for information. Ven wants him alive, too -- for other reasons,” Terra explained. Half-explained, rather. “That’s also why I didn’t want you to actually go after him.”

Setting his hands on his hips, Lea heaved a dramatic sigh. “Well, gee, you could’ve mentioned that, too.”

Terra shot him a hard look, but it was half-hearted and quickly faded. “...You’re right. I should have told you more,” he admitted, glancing away. “I’m sorry.”

Lea cocked a surprised eyebrow. He couldn’t remember the last time anybody had apologized to him for anything -- not so sincerely, anyway. He scratched the back of his head and sighed again, more quietly. “All right, look,” he said seriously: “Vanitas was in rough shape when he left. There’s no way he made it more than a few worlds away from where we were. If he’s laying low and not using Corridors, I won’t be able to do much. But I can point you in the right direction.” After a short pause, he added, sounding a little apologetic himself, “I was planning on bringing him to you guys. I was gonna heal him up just to be safe, but… well. That said, if he pushed himself too hard... I can’t make any promises, Terra.”

Terra’s gaze narrowed, but it was grim, not angry. He gave a stiff nod. “I understand. And I appreciate the help.”

“I’ll do you one more than that,” Lea offered. “You’ll need me in case he does try to run, right? I’ll tag along -- and I promise not to break the rules again,” he added swiftly, rolling his eyes as Terra looked at him.

“I won’t be able to do anything right away,” said Terra. “I need to talk to Master Eraqus first -- and tell him what happened,” he added, sounding reluctant. Or maybe that was shame. Lea suddenly wondered what rules Terra might have broken in coming to him like he had, although it was hard to picture such a straight-laced guy doing anything that went against his Master’s bidding. “If he says it’s all right, I’ll take you up on that.”

“Gotcha. Want me to come with? I mean, you’re already mad at me, so I might as well let him let loose, too. Maybe he’ll be too busy yelling at me to ground you.”

Terra blinked. “I’m not mad. I just…”

Grinning, Lea stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder. The force behind that friendly gesture had always made Roxas stumble, but Terra didn’t budge. “I’m _kidding,_ ” said Lea. “Sheesh.” For somebody who had ties to Xemnas, this kid sure acted _nothing_ like him. Well, not that Xemnas had been the type to take a joke, either, but that hardhearted, icy aura and steely gaze were characteristics that Terra most certainly lacked. Standing this close, Lea found it obvious that even their faces weren’t all that similar; Xemnas’ had been full of sharp angles, his eyes thinner and calculating. Terra had the look of somebody who had been through too much but still managed to keep his sanity -- his innocence -- through all of it.

_...A lot like Ven, huh._ Lea kept those thoughts off his face. “Seriously, though. He’ll probably want the details, and going with you’s a lot easier.”

That uncertainty faded into solemn gratitude as Terra smiled. “Right. Thanks, Lea.”

* * *

When next Vanitas awoke, it wasn’t to the harsh sun and pulsing pain in his body that he last remembered. There were definitely still some aches, particularly in his chest and head, but breathing was no longer a chore and he didn’t have to fight any impulses to cringe. The air was cool -- too cool, he realized, just as the noise level was too low. He was inside somewhere.

Suspicion and alarm flared and he forced himself to open his heavy eyes. He was on his side, facing a couple of small windows with the blinds closed. Natural light filled the room regardless; it was daytime, although he couldn’t begin to guess how long he’d been unconscious. The rest of his senses sharpened at the same time and he recognized a bed underneath him and a thick blanket pulled up to his shoulders. As comfortable as it was, it only made him more uneasy.

Shielding his face against the obnoxious sunlight, he rolled onto his back as quickly as he dared -- which, being mindful of his lingering injuries, wasn’t very. Thankfully his body was in much better condition than before, not so much beaten and ragged as simply bruised and tired, so he had little trouble. The real issue came when his right hip bumped into something warm -- something that moved in response.

It was one thing to have grown used to being around Ventus for a few days, and then another in allowing Lunafreya to touch him. Both sensations -- constant company, physical contact -- had required effort in overriding his defensive reflexes. Having somebody _this_ close, when he had just been sleeping and vulnerable, was entirely different. It startled and angered him all at once.

Vanitas bolted upright in a heartbeat, left hand reaching out as conditioned paranoia sought to call his -- _no, Ventus’_ \-- Keyblade to himself, and swiftly twisted in place to confront the--

\--dog.

Vanitas froze, confusion breaking his usual apathy to show on his face in a puzzled, irritated frown. Stretched out beside him and lying atop the comforter was a large white canine, her head resting dutifully on her folded paws. As he continued to stare, the animal raised her head and looked up at him, the nostrils on her wet, black nose flaring as she sniffed in his direction.

_“...What.”_

The dog’s curled, bushy tail began to wag. She sat up straight, as tall as he was, as her long muzzle broke into a stupid-looking grin. Vanitas remained unmoved, although he didn’t follow through with summoning the Keyblade. He dared to relax again, but only slightly, and all his aches came rushing back. He let out an annoyed sigh.

The bedroom was small without being cramped. Two doors, the exit and either a closet or a washroom; a table with a couple chairs; a dresser with a small black screen sitting on top of it; and a low side table between two beds. Propped against that table was Ventus’ Keyblade. He let out the tight breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

It definitely wasn’t Land of Departure material, so Vanitas’ first fear was instantly assuaged. For the first time -- and he silently reprimanded himself for being so slow on the uptake -- he noticed that he wasn’t wearing anything beneath the blanket. A quick onceover said his wounds were closed, even the hole in his chest now nothing more than a thick welt. A few would undoubtedly remain as permanent scars, particularly the burns on his arms and sides. He was no longer covered in blood, either.

The dog whined at him, but Vanitas ignored her. He could guess what had happened: Lunafreya must have brought him here, even gone so far as to make sure his injuries were properly cleaned and treated. This was probably a house or an inn, and she was either somewhere nearby or had journeyed onward once certain that Vanitas was stable. He doubted the latter, especially considering the dog’s presence. That reasoning would also explain his missing clothes: they’d been in bloody tatters, so it was certainly easier to remove them than work around them.

The dog whined again, pawing at his knee. He gave her big head an impatient shove, although he was rough without being aggressive. As stupid and harmless as she seemed, he wasn’t in the mood to push his luck against a mouthful of sharp teeth. Not at this range. “No. Get lost.” She stared him straight in the eye, her blue gaze so intense that he briefly wondered if she was the silent kind of dog or not -- either way, she got the message and dropped down onto the floor, nails clicking against the wooden boards as she retreated. As he watched her go Vanitas also noticed the bed beside his own, noting that it was empty and still made (why hadn’t the dumb mutt picked that one, then?). More importantly, on it sat a stack of folded clothes.

He narrowed his eyes. He didn’t necessarily suspect any tricks or anything, but if anybody expected him to feel grateful or even obligated over these favors, they were going to be disappointed. Still, he was in no position to reject the opportunity out of spite. He climbed out of bed, glad to find that most of his strength had returned, and snatched up the clothes to get dressed. It turned out to be a good gauge of his current state, since each movement agitated some lingering ache somewhere. Nothing crippling, but he quickly deduced he would have to be careful with stretching or twisting his torso too far. It would cut down on his mobility in battle for a little while.

Meanwhile, the dog had retreated to claim a space near the door, sitting on her haunches, but now she slid forward to rest on her belly. Perhaps satisfied that he’d accepted the garments, she dropped her head onto her arms again with a quiet snort. Again, Vanitas paid her no mind.

The clothes in question were very different than what he was used to. A sleeveless maroon top, an ash-grey denim jacket, and black pants made up the simple ensemble. Much more loose-fitting than his previous, but comfortably so. The important thing was that he would be able to move and fight just fine in them; having avoided anything bright and gaudy like what Ventus wore was a bonus. Plus, pockets. Those could be useful.

He was rolling up the jacket’s sleeves to his elbows -- conscious but dismissive of the scars both new and old on his forearms that were now visible -- when the dog suddenly perked up and raised her head. A moment later there was a light knock at the door.

Unsurprised, Vanitas called out flatly, “Yeah.” As expected, he glanced up to see Lunafreya enter. She, too, had changed from her previous dirty clothes into another white dress. She smiled when she saw him, but he only returned his attention to his sleeves.

“Good morning. How do you feel?” she inquired, sounding as though she might have honestly cared.

“I’ll live.” He sat back down on the bed to pull on his shoes, the only remaining article of his own. He’d discovered them by the side table as well. “Where are we?”

“An inn on the road. We’ve crossed over into Duscae.” Lunafreya moved into the room proper to stand at the foot of the other bed, her hands clasped loosely over her stomach. “We’re safe here, for the moment. Although your wounds have healed enough for you to travel just fine.”

Which was precisely why he was about to head out the door.

“Oh,” she spoke up again, “it was the innkeeper who changed your clothes. I asked him.”

Vanitas glanced at her, unsure why she felt obligated to add that pointless bit of information. Unless… oh. Right. That thing called modesty. It wasn’t as though he had much of a sense for it, anyway, so that little favor meant nothing. She could have done it herself and he wouldn’t have cared.

He didn’t bother responding, but stood and turned to Ventus’ Keyblade. He eyed it for a few seconds in the same way he would regard a stranger who couldn’t yet be classified as ally or foe. Slowly, almost warily, he reached for it and slipped his fingers around the grip.

Disappointment sank like a weight from his chest to the bottom of his stomach. Nothing. It was ignoring him again.

“Thank you.” Lunafreya’s remark interrupted his agitated thoughts. He shot her a hard but blank glance that didn’t seem to faze her. “For your help before,” she clarified. When he didn’t reply, again, she added, “Your weapon must be very special. I’ve seen no others capable of destroying those creatures.”

“Heartless,” he grunted, out of nothing more than a desire to clear up the terminology for the encroaching conversation. He might as well get some information out of her while he had the opportunity. He released the Keyblade and turned towards her. “You said they’re different from the daemons you mentioned.”

“Yes. Daemons are only a threat during the night. Unlike these Heartless, it would seem.”

“They’re more dangerous?”

Lunafreya paused. “I don’t know,” she said with a small shake of her head. “I feel an overwhelming darkness in both of them. They are similar, but I cannot say to what extent.”

That brought Vanitas back to one of his earlier thoughts. A strong light, a sensitivity to darkness, the Keyblade’s approval… She had to be a Princess of Heart. That or a Keyblade wielder, but the latter was obviously not the case.

“Have you seen anybody else with a weapon like mine?” he asked.

“No. You’re the first.”

That was good news. But if the Heartless were still running rampant here, it was only a matter of time until Ventus’ group or some of the other wielders came around to clean up. Heartless would be on the decline since the War, and a world as saturated with them as this one was bound to trip some alarms. Leaving would be ideal, but Vanitas still didn’t know how Lea had found him. Something to do with the Corridors, perhaps, which meant staying put for now was probably wiser. Not to mention, there was the matter of Ventus’ Keyblade… It had accepted him again, briefly. Maybe he could figure out how to make it do so again.

“Forgive me,” Lunafreya spoke up again, “but I never did take the time to ask for your name properly.”

Rather than giving it, Vanitas fixed her with another hard stare. “You know what I am,” he said bluntly. She blinked at him, now with a hint of a frown. “What I’m made of. I know you can feel it. I can tell what you are, too.” He didn’t try to keep the disdain out of his voice. “Light. A _lot_ of it. It makes no sense for somebody like you to help somebody like me.” And certainly not to the extent that she had out in that field. In his mind, that could only mean she wanted something.

For the first time, Lunafreya broke eye contact as her gaze dropped. “I saw a person... hurt and in need of help. Nothing less.”

“A person with the same kind of darkness as those Heartless,” he corrected sharply.

She gave another shake of her head, her blonde hair swishing with an annoying grace. “No. You…”

“Are a Keybearer,” said a new voice. The two of them turned towards it, Vanitas both startled and irritated that he hadn’t detected a new presence.

Another woman stood by the door. She was tall like Lunafreya, but with long, dark hair and a dress of black and gold. Dark eyes watched Vanitas beneath heavy eyelids as she entered. In appearance alone, she was Lunafreya’s foil. Light and dark.

“Whatever the make of your heart, that weapon you carry has chosen you,” she continued. Her voice was quiet but steady, almost musical. “To be lost in shadow does not one shadow make.” She glanced at Lunafreya. “The kindness of the Oracle aside, she knew you were worth protecting. Just as you did the same for her.”

_I didn’t do it for her_ was Vanitas’ first impulse reply, but he held it back.

“Like yourself, she is sensitive to the tides of light and darkness. She has power over those who would disrupt that balance.” The woman tilted her head slightly, a small and ambiguous smile pulling at her brightly painted lips. “That is why we have a request.”

Lunafreya was also watching him now. Vanitas kept his face impassive. “Request?” he repeated, sounding more skeptical than curious.

“The Oracle is to depart on an important task, one upon which the fate of this world stands,” said the woman, managing to be both specific and extremely vague at the same time. “The road she walks was always fated to be dangerous -- but the appearance of those without hearts has made her path deadly.”

Vanitas was a step ahead. “Let me guess. You need a bodyguard. One who stands a chance against the Heartless.”

The woman’s smile quirked a fraction. “The lines of both the Oracle and the Keybearers share a similar interest. One could say they are not so different, in many a sense.”

“I don’t have much to offer you in the way of compensation,” Lunafreya told him, looking apologetic. “And it will be dangerous. But I promise you, I will not rest until I have succeeded in this task, and light is restored.”

Now _that_ was ironic. Despite the darkness that was probably emanating off of him like smoke to these two women, they were still assuming his interests were in line with the average Keyblade wielder. As if he cared one way or another what happened to this world.

Vanitas could honestly say that he didn’t. Nor would he lose any sleep over Lunafreya’s fate. But while a flat rejection was already rising to his mouth, he held it back and hesitated. His intention for the time being was to stay in this world, at the very least until he made a full recovery. He was perfectly capable of functioning on his own, but it wouldn’t hurt to have somebody nearby who was willing to give him any information he needed. And most importantly was the matter of Ventus’ Keyblade. _It_ fell in line with the average wielder’s obsession with what was good and right, no doubt. It had gone so far as to temporarily accept its keeper’s would-be murderer for the sake of protecting Lunafreya, of protecting the light and by extension this world. Vanitas was willing to bet that if he continued to act in her best interest, it would do so again.

His pride was insulted by the very prospect of helping her, of acting in favor of the light. His logic honestly didn’t care as long as he benefited from the situation. As much as the two halves wrestled with each other right then, the latter was already winning out. And really, he reasoned, if it didn’t work out, there was nothing to keep him from just up and leaving whenever he felt like it. He wouldn’t lose anything by trying.

“...What kind of task?” he asked finally. “How long would it take?”

Lunafreya stole a glimpse at the woman, who nodded. “I seek to awaken the Six -- the gods who slumber. They are crucial in the struggle to come, but I have reason to believe they will not all cooperate peacefully with my request. They will be the most dangerous part of this journey… and I believe such an endeavor would take weeks at best. Perhaps longer, should the Empire act swiftly to stop me.”

Angry gods. A hostile empire. Daemons. And now Heartless. No wonder she was desperate enough to ask him for a favor.

It was also sounding like more than a simple escorting assignment from point A to point B, but that had no bearing on Vanitas’ decision. He could bail if he had to, but he wasn’t going to balk at the first indication of difficulty or danger. Truth be told, other than the annoyance of switching natural alignments, Vanitas could think of no problem with accepting.

“...Fine.” He looked from Lunafreya to the other woman and back again, still keeping his expression blank. “I’ll handle anything that comes at you. _But_ \--” Here his stare hardened a little. “No more heroics. I tell you to run, hide, whatever, you do it. I don’t need you getting in my way and getting us both killed.”

Lunafreya was quick to nod. “I understand. Thank you.” She smiled, but it didn’t quite touch her eyes.

“You are not from this world, Keybearer,” said the other woman. “Mighty though your power may be, do not restrict your trust to yourself and your weapon. Heed the Oracle. The recent arrival of the Heartless is no coincidence.”

Recent? If that was referring to _after_ the War, that made no sense. But for Lunafreya to have only seen them twice…

Whatever. That was a question for Ventus and the others to mull over. Cryptic though her words were, Vanitas recognized the warning in them. Without another word she turned away, but he let her go and instead addressed Lunafreya again. “When do we leave?”

“As soon as possible. If your wounds agree with you, I believe today would be best. Noon.”

“Fine.”

She nodded again. “If you need provisions, speak with the storekeeper nextdoor. He has offered to aid me in whatever way he can, so you won’t need to worry about payment. Please be sure to eat something, as well.”

Well, that was convenient. Once more, Lunafreya threw him off slightly by bowing towards him. “Truly,” she said more quietly, “I thank you very much for your aid.” She offered him another smile as she straightened up, and this time didn’t wait for a response before also turning to depart. The dog, who had remained still and supposedly asleep the entire time, suddenly rose to follow her.

Vanitas watched them both go. He let her get as far as the door before speaking.

“...Vanitas.”

Lunafreya turned back, eyebrows knitted uncertainly. “I’m sorry?”

“You asked for my name,” he reminded her impatiently.

This time her smile did reach her eyes, unbearably cheerful and kind.

* * *

“Aqua!”

“Hm?” She looked up to see Ven reach the crest of the hill at an easy jog, speeding up into a run as the ground leveled out. He looked so cheerful and energetic that she refrained from telling him to slow down, instead returning his smile when he caught up to her. “Hey, Ven. Doing okay?”

“Yup!” He certainly looked to be telling the truth. His complexion was back to normal, there was no hint of discomfort in his face or poise, and he wasn’t breathing in that rhythmic, conscious way that he had been for a while. If he still felt any pain, it was minor enough that he could shrug it off completely. “I’m doin’ great! What’re you up to?”

Ven’s enthusiasm was contagious, not that Aqua could blame him. It was a beautiful day out, a perfect welcome to his long-awaited, total release from house arrest. He looked so upbeat and energized, as if rejuvenated by nothing more than the sun and wind on his skin, that she regretted not taking him outside more often before now. Maybe it would have sped up his recovery a little.

“Just making some plans,” she answered. She looked out over the small plot of land on which they stood, the vibrant grass ending abruptly and shifting into deep brown soil. Most of this world had been restored perfectly, but a few small things had suffered, including what had once been a simple vegetable garden. She and Terra had taken care of it for as long as she could remember, and then Ven was taught a few things after his arrival and pitched in gladly. It was a little sad, seeing it so bare and empty of life and all their hard work.

“Oh, yeah. Terra told me everything died off.” Ven sounded as disappointed as she felt, but then immediately brightened. “Well, hey, you guys built it once, right? We can do it again.”

Aqua chuckled. “Master Eraqus passed it onto us, actually. I’m not sure if he planted it originally, or somebody before him… But you’re right,” she said warmly. “This will give us something to work on together.” It would also be a good way of getting Ven back into a regular routine of more serious physical activity.

“Right!” he agreed. “It’ll be fun. If you wanna make a list and start figurin’ out where everything’ll go, I can do some readin’ and see if there’s anything new we can add.”

“Good idea. Terra can get what we need the next time he’s out.”

“And we’ll put aside a couple days to get it all done,” said Ven with a nod. “We don’t wanna miss the start of the season.”

“Mm. It’s a plan.” The two of them shared a smile. It was both relieving and strange for everything to feel so normal again; no talk of Xehanort, Heartless, Vanitas, or any of that. Just the small, simple things, pieces of the life they’d left behind a long time ago.

“Well, before we do that, you wanna take a break?” Ven asked. “There’s somethin’ I wanna talk about, too.”

That piqued Aqua’s curiosity immediately. It was unlike Ven to preface a subject like that; he had always been the type to just jump straight into talking, much like he did everything else. Despite his lighthearted tone, she guessed it was something relatively serious.

“Sure. Is right here okay?”

They sat down there on the warm grass facing each other, Ven with his legs crossed and Aqua with hers out to the side. She watched him patiently, but he kept his eyes on his knees for a couple moments as he pondered where to start.

“I was thinking,” he said slowly, “and you’re right: it’s dangerous to travel without a Keyblade. But -- I can’t just sit here and leave all the work to everybody else,” he said resolutely, his face set and serious as he finally looked up. “An’ I don’t just mean the Heartless, either. I’m really glad you and Terra and the Master want to help me with this -- but…” Again he wavered, but he held her gaze. “But it’s _my_ Keyblade. And Vanitas is my problem more than anybody else’s. _I_ need to be the one to get it back.”

Aqua wasn’t sure if her surprise showed right then. This wasn’t the Ven she knew, impulsively leaping ahead without thinking. Perhaps all that idle bedrest lately had done him some good in more ways than one, but she suspected that wasn’t all there was to it. No, he’d changed before that -- ever since leaving home. He had grown, was growing still. “What are you thinking, Ven?” she asked. She was willing to hear him out, at least.

“I meant what I said before -- I want to see Vanitas again. See if I can talk him down,” he told her. His expression broke as he glanced away, hesitating and uncertain. “But… I won’t pretend it’ll be that easy. I think… I _know_ I’ll have to fight him again. Before it’s over.”

Aqua’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“It’s how he is. I guess… it’s how _we_ are.” Ven shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t really explain it. But… if I want to get my Keyblade back, I need to be ready to fight him.”

She took her time in choosing her response. “...Are you?” she wondered. When Ven stared at her, she elaborated gently, “Sometimes it’s difficult to separate your feelings from your actions, Ven. And Vanitas isn’t somebody you can risk going up against unless you know your mind and heart are made up.”

He nodded firmly. “I know. Just because I want to try and reach him doesn’t mean I can let my guard down. I already messed up once. Trust me, I won’t do it again.”

He really had given this a lot of thought. “...All right,” she conceded, smiling when he perked up. “It sounds like you’ve got some kind of plan in mind. Let’s hear it.”

With a grin that banished that solemn atmosphere in a heartbeat, Ven leaned forward. “Okay! So -- I thought of a weapon I could use. It’s kinda like havin’ my Keyblade again, sort of -- just not as strong--”

“Ven. Before you tell me you’re going to go borrow a sword from somebody--”

He laughed. “No way. It’d take too long to learn how to use it right. This is somethin’ I’ve used before -- but the catch is that I can’t use it for very long. That’s why I need your help, Aqua. I need better control of my magic.”

Crossing her arms, Aqua drummed her fingers along her chin. She could guess where he was going with this. “That’s not a bad idea,” she murmured. If he could tighten his control on his magic, he could potentially spend less energy when casting or -- as he was doubtlessly suggesting -- suspending a spell for a period of time. More training could also deepen his magic reserves, as well, meaning he would have more energy to pull from in the long run.

There was just one issue. “Without a Keyblade, your magic will be weaker than normal,” she pointed out. “That will make it harder on you.”

Ven nodded again. “Yeah, I thought about that. But… even though it’s gone, I can feel it.” He placed a hand over his heart. “We’re still connected. It’s still giving me power.” His smile turned easy and patient -- not at all the look of somebody who had lost such a critical part of himself. “I know I won’t be as strong as usual,” he told her. “But I don’t think the difference’ll be that bad. Besides… if I can learn it like I am now, it’ll just be easier once I get it back!”

Honestly, Aqua hated the idea of Ven facing off against Vanitas again. The last thing she wanted was to encourage it -- but the fact of the matter was that _somebody_ would have to confront him if Ven was to recover his Keyblade. That much she knew to be inevitable. And as badly as she didn’t want that somebody to be Ven, the odds of that were probably good. Vanitas had summoned that Keyblade to himself -- what was to say anybody other than Ven _could_ reclaim it?

Not only that, but Ven did need an alternate method of fighting and defending himself either way. This plan of his was the best if not only suggestion -- and who was Aqua to turn him away because of her own fears?

“You’re sure I’m the right one for this?” she asked him. “Terra and the Master are both great with magic. You fight more like they do.”

“I’m sure,” he said confidently. “Besides, there’s somethin’ I’ve always wanted you to teach me. Somethin’ I think only you can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter!


	14. Breakthroughs

Ven inhaled deeply, held it for a few seconds, and then breathed out slow. His hands clenched and loosened again at his sides. He was stalling, running his words over in his head for what felt like the hundredth time.

 _It’s no big deal,_ he assured himself. _The worst thing he could say is no._ His frown deepened. If that happened, he wasn’t sure what he would do.

Inhaling and exhaling again, Ven raised a hand, hesitated a couple more seconds, and then knocked at the pair of closed doors. His heartbeat matched the quick rhythm. When there was no immediate answer, he almost felt relieved. Then--

“Enter.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, fell back a step, but then nodded to himself and pulled the righthand door open.

He actually hadn’t been inside Eraqus’ study much. Training was always done outside while talks were usually held in the throne room or dining room. Still, the couple instances in which Ven had seen the inside were enough to tell him that nothing seemed to have changed since last time. It was still large and tidy, still bright with sunlight filling the open windows. The large wooden desk was in the same place as before, and Eraqus currently sat behind it.

He looked up as Ven entered. “Ventus.” He sounded a little surprised, but nodded to indicate that he come further in. “How are you feeling?”

Ven obeyed and made his way across the room to stand before the desk, his posture straight and shoulders squared. “Like normal, Master. I’m pretty sure I’ve healed up all the way.”

“That’s very good to hear.” Eraqus smiled, an expression that still retained most of his usual serious air. “Was there something you wanted?”

Inhale. Half a second’s pause. “Yes, Master. I want to talk to you -- about something. If you have time.”

Another nod, this time as Eraqus closed the book in front of him. “I do. Go ahead.”

Ven rarely had trouble keeping eye contact, but this was one of those times. His gaze drifted down to the desktop. “It’s… about Vanitas.” Even in the corner of his eye, he could tell Eraqus’ expression had hardened attentively. When he didn’t interrupt, Ven went on, “I was wondering what you want us to do about ‘im.”

Eraqus made a low sound, something between thoughtful and resigned. He set his elbows on the desk and joined his hands in front of his mouth. “I haven’t given any new orders yet,” he said after a moment. “But with your recovery, apprehending him is now priority. Your Keyblade needs to be reclaimed, and he cannot be allowed to run freely either way.”

Ven hoped his wince wasn’t as obvious as he thought it probably was. This was the hard part. “I understand, Master,” he replied hesitantly. “But… I was thinking--”

“Sit down, Ventus,” said Eraqus suddenly. Surprised, Ven quickly did so. Lowering his hands, Eraqus still kept them joined as his eyes scanned his desk, as if searching for something. “I know how you must feel,” he said finally. “The Keyblade is yours. You want to get it back yourself.” Slowly, Ven nodded. “I understand. I also understand that you’ve fought Vanitas many times before now, and I judge neither your ability nor your will by what occurred last month.” Eraqus looked him square in the eye now. “But the fact of the matter is that you are currently a Keyblade wielder in name only. And I cannot -- I _will not_ put you at risk by permitting you to confront him as you are.”

It wasn’t a surprise, not in the slightest. Ven had braced himself for that order, but all the same he had to check himself to keep from objecting. He had an answer for that, but he’d been planning this talk all day and he needed to be patient. One thing at a time.

When he looked down again and said nothing, Eraqus’ voice softened. “I hope you understand, Ventus. You know as well as any of us that a Keyblade can only be matched by another Keyblade, especially against one of Vanitas’ caliber.”

“I do,” Ven agreed. “But… that’s not what I was going to ask.” Not yet, anyway. Breathing in silently, he looked up and met Eraqus’ stare resolutely. “I want to know what’s going to happen to ‘im. After it’s over.”

“That depends. But I was actually hoping that you might be able to tell me what to expect, Ventus. Do you believe there’s any chance of retrieving your Keyblade without resorting to lethal force against him?”

Ven didn’t respond immediately, even though he already knew the answer. “...No,” he said heavily. “He’ll die before he gives it up.”

“As I feared… Unfortunate, but perhaps inevitable.”

“But,” Ven interjected, “if we could get it from him first -- that’d be different. I’m sure he’d just try to run, then.”

“Yes, but that’s no better. It goes without saying that he cannot be allowed to go free. He’s still a danger even without a Keyblade.”

“But what if--” It was a struggle for Ven not to look away again. “Master, what if -- there was a way to keep an eye on him? What if he -- what if we could trust him not to be a threat anymore?”

Eraqus stared at him. Ven nearly squirmed in his seat under that intense grey gaze, but managed to keep still. “...That is a rather large and unlikely ‘if,’ Ventus,” said Eraqus finally. His tone was suspicious, as was his expression. “What are you thinking?”

_Well... now or never._

“If… If we could be sure that he wasn’t gonna do anything bad anymore -- we wouldn’t have to take him down then, right? We wouldn’t need to. And I think… it might be possible. I mean -- I can try. I don’t know if he’d agree -- probably not, not at first, anyway, but--” Ven had to remind himself to slow down. Gathering his thoughts again, he said clearly, “I know what he is, Master. I know what Vanitas is made of. But… Terra proved to you, didn’t he? Darkness -- it can be controlled--”

“It can,” Eraqus admitted, his tone a few degrees colder than before, “but Terra is a special case. The strong light in his heart allows him to wield darkness without succumbing to it. If I understand correctly, Vanitas has nothing of the sort himself. He has no light to balance his dark nature.”

“He has me,” said Ven. The pause here was the longest one yet, the silence deep enough to hear the waterfalls humming in the distance. “I _was_ his light, a long time ago,” he said more quietly, but no less firmly. “Just like he was my darkness. And I know -- that he hates me for it. He hates me for a lot of things. I’m the last person he wants anything to do with. That’s why…” His hands balled into fists on his knees. “If I could bring him back, that would prove -- he can change. That he’s more than just hate and rage. Wouldn’t it?”

Eraqus’ eyes thinned, but again he didn’t speak. Ven took what he hoped was the wiser choice and remained silent, figuring he had said enough for the moment.

“...You still speak in ‘ifs,’ Ventus,” he said sternly at length. “I admit, if you could manage to bring him here of his own free will, that would be a different case. But for somebody who fought so desperately for his freedom, what could you possibly offer him?”

Ven didn’t miss a beat. “The part I took away,” he answered, quieter still.

As expected, Eraqus appeared anything but thrilled by that suggestion. “You mean to barter with his Keyblade?” he asked, his words gaining a sharp edge.

“That’s the only thing that could work,” said Ven quickly. “We were connected. I felt what he did. He didn’t try to kill me because he wanted to -- it was different that time. He wasn’t…” Excited. Hateful. Glad. Ven had felt those very emotions when Vanitas hurt him before -- there was no denying that he took a sick kind of pleasure in causing pain, maybe just to Ven specifically -- and none of that had been there when he turned Ven’s own Keyblade against him.

Ven decided to leave that part out. “It wasn’t the same,” he finished, a bit lamely. “And, Master… please believe me -- I know him. It wasn’t like him to be that distracted. Sealing his Keyblade… it hurt him. That’s why I think… he might do anything to get it back now.”

He hoped the unspoken part there was obvious: _Even cooperate with us._

“Then what, exactly, are you suggesting we do?” Eraqus wondered, sounding wary.

“I need the chance to talk to him,” Ven proposed immediately. “If I tell ‘im there’s a way he could earn his Keyblade back -- if I promised he had safe passage here…” He watched his Master curiously, even hopefully, but Eraqus gave him no sign. “...then he might listen. I think it’s worth a shot.”

Eraqus remained impassive as Ven spoke, his face locked into a hard, serious look that didn’t budge all the while. When Ven fell silent, Eraqus still didn’t speak. It felt like a full minute before he reacted at last and inhaled deeply -- and then sighed as that expression broke, leaving him tired and grim. “It means that much to you?” he wondered.

Again, Ven chose his words carefully. “Yes, Master. But… Vanitas isn’t a friend of mine. I know that. I don’t think he ever will be, either.”

“Then why?”

“Because…” It was Ven’s turn to sigh. This probably sounded immature, even stupid, but it was the truth. “...Because whether I like it or not -- and whether he does, too -- I’m all he’s got left. I’m the only one who’s seen inside ‘im… I’m the only one who knows there could be more to him, if he tried. And maybe he won’t -- maybe I’m totally wrong about all of this,” he admitted, “but… if I’m his only chance, I think I should at least try before giving up on him like everybody else has.”

That hung in the air for what felt like a long time. Ven did drop his eyes again this time, knowing he had no more reasoning to give. If Eraqus didn’t agree now, he never would.

“Even if I were to permit this attempt,” his Master began slowly, “there is still the matter of your Keyblade. If Vanitas were to react violently… you cannot face him and expect to win as you are.”

Ven perked up. This, he had an answer to. He quickly repeated everything he had told Aqua the day before; like her, Eraqus appeared surprised -- maybe even impressed -- by what he was suggesting. More than that, he considered it more deeply as he turned to stare out the closest window in thought.

“...Perhaps,” he said quietly. “Were Vanitas at full power, I would still advise against it. But if he’s at a disadvantage, you may well be correct. That may be enough.”

“Disadvantage?” Ven blinked. “Disadvantage for what?”

Turning back to him, Eraqus frowned again. “You told Terra and Aqua that you sensed Vanitas was in danger, correct? It was Lea. He had been tracking Vanitas, and he confronted him.”

“Lea?”

“Yes. He returned safely, but he failed to retrieve your Keyblade. He also lost Vanitas’ trail in the process.”

Lea had fought Vanitas? Why? Eraqus had forbidden anybody from...

_‘But… me ‘n Vanitas are different. And he’s in another world now, and that makes it harder, too.’_

_‘I just remembered I have an appointment. Don’t wanna be late.’_

That day… No. He couldn’t have actually--

“Did Lea… go because of me?” Ven stared across at Eraqus, vaguely horrified. “Did he go just to get my Keyblade back?”

“It is a little more complicated than that,” said Eraqus gruffly. “He wasn’t the only one responsible. But he has agreed not to act independently again, so this matter is on all of us now.” Before Ven could think too much on that, Eraqus went on, “Fortunately, his effort was not totally in vain. Judging by his account, Vanitas has suffered a tremendous loss of power since we saw him last.”

“Huh?”

“I believe your Keyblade is rejecting him. But because he is still a wielder in name, it cannot simply leave him when it wills. And then there is the matter of your connection. It is difficult to guess what impact it has, or perhaps will have, but you would have to consider the possibility that your Keyblade may be incapable of heeding your call, even if you are close.”

Vanitas was weaker. Ven’s glimmer of hope grew. “I will,” he confirmed with a nod. “I am. I’m ready to fight him, Master -- or… I will be. Soon.”

“Yes… your training…” Eraqus rubbed his chin pensively. “Proceed as planned. I believe your suggestion is your best option, for the time being. Tell Aqua that overseeing you is now priority. Terra will continue to see to our allies.”

Ven nodded again, this time with more force. “Yes, Master!”

“As for Vanitas…” There was another solemn, thoughtful pause. “I want you to understand, Ventus: I do what I must for the safety of this world and every other. You know that it is our responsibility to safeguard the light, keep the darkness at bay, and strike down any who would upset that balance. Vanitas is no exception to this responsibility.”

Ven said nothing.

“That said… I do not believe that he is a threat to this ground. Not by himself. If, as you say, he could prove himself to be trusted… It is possible that I would consider allowing him here, and see if he can prove himself worthy of receiving the power again. _However_ \--” said Eraqus quickly, before Ven could react, “this would all hinge on whether he was willing to cooperate with you, and you’ve made it clear to me that this is no easy task. And I will tell you now,” he said with some weight, “there is one thing much more dear to me than this land, and I will not permit him to threaten it under _any_ circumstances.”

The gravity of those words didn’t go over Ven’s head. “What’s that, Master?”

“The lives of you three.”

Ven stared, visibly taken aback. Eraqus explained, calmly and sadly, “I never did apologize, Ventus. As eager as I was to contain Vanitas that day, and confident though I was in your ability, what I did was wrong. You were in no state to act as I ordered you to… and you nearly lost your life because of it. For that, I am sorry.”

This was the second time that Eraqus had apologized to him. Like the first, Ven hadn’t expected or even wanted it -- and like the first he was quick to dismiss it as unnecessary. He shook his head. “No -- Master, it wasn’t your fault. I was fine, I just -- let my guard down. I knew better than that. What happened… it was all on me.”

“Regardless, I will not take that chance a second time,” Eraqus told him evenly. His fingers tightened around the arms of his chair, and for a long moment he said nothing else. Ven felt his stomach sink, certain that remark was the prelude to a refusal. Then Eraqus spoke again. “...I will give the order for a worldwide search. I will specify that Vanitas is to be located without the use of lethal force. And if I determine that your training has sufficiently prepared you by the time he’s found, we will see about getting you to him, and letting you speak to him. But should your life be endangered as before--” His expression darkened. “-- _any_ of you, Vanitas is to be treated as any other enemy and struck down, immediately and without question. You may be willing to take such risks with yourself, but I am not. Is that clear?”

Ven broke into an appreciative smile, only to quickly smother it and reply seriously, “Yes, Master.”

This was it. There was nothing to do now but prepare himself. That was easier said than done, surely, but now the path was clear. Everything from here on out depended on his own dedication -- and Vanitas’ stubbornness. The only catch was that Ven was already certain that Eraqus’ fear was inevitable: it would take nothing less than a full, fair, and final defeat to make Vanitas listen. That meant that the next time they met, Vanitas would most certainly be fighting to kill. And in a hard twist of irony, striking down Ven would only guarantee his death in return.

But this was all still a ways off. Ven would figure something out by then.

As absorbed as he was in those thoughts, he almost missed Eraqus’ next low remark. “You truly have grown, Ventus.” Blinking himself back to reality, Ven gave his Master a curious look, to which he expanded solemnly, “I didn’t know what to expect when Xehanort brought you here all those years ago. Your recovery was nothing short of miraculous, and you grew into a wielder that far exceeded the expectations he had given me. And now… you’ve grown into a young man that I’m proud to have helped raise. In a way,” he said more quietly, “I regret that my heart was not more like yours in the past. Many troubles may have been avoided.”

Suddenly standing up -- which prompted Ven to immediately do the same -- Eraqus made his way around the desk to stand before him, looking down at him with a searching stare. Ven held it, uncertain what to expect -- and was surprised when Eraqus set a gentle hand atop his head, smiling fondly.

“I only ask that you don’t allow anybody to take advantage of that heart, Ventus. As badly as you may want to give Vanitas this chance… it is nothing compared to how badly we want to see you home safe.”

He wasn’t as emotional as Terra and Aqua, but he didn’t need to be. Ven returned the smile, but brighter, and bobbed his head. “I understand, Master. I won’t let you down.”

* * *

The winged silhouette was nearly lost in the shadows of the overcast sky, its black body zipping back and forth as it fought against sharp gusts of wind. Vanitas didn’t have to follow it with his eyes, instead turning his attention back to the land stretched out before him. A heavy rain had rolled in and fell hard on grass and asphalt alike, pattering loudly against the shelter under which he stood. He felt the shape rapidly drawing near, but it wasn’t until he knew it was close enough to be of interest that he finally looked up again.

The bird spread its wet wings wide to slow its sharp descent, red eyes glowing bright amid the humid gloom. Vanitas extended an arm as if beckoning it to perch there -- but instead opened his fingers, palm up, and the Unversed shrank, darkened, and fell into a shapeless shadow that slipped into his hand and vanished. He paused as the negativity flowed back into him, providing him with several minutes of memory that he swiftly sorted through.

“There’s a blockade up ahead,” he announced. “Looks like the only way around is through the swamp to the east. The mountain to the west is too steep.”

“How long would the swamp take to traverse?”

Vanitas considered for a few seconds. By himself, and even restricted to traveling by foot, it wouldn’t take more than an hour, two tops, depending on how tricky the terrain was and how long the rain persisted. With Lunafreya in tow, who was much slower, less agile, and unable to just fight her way through any monsters that popped up… “Half a day,” he guessed.

He finally turned to look at her. She sat at an old, half-rotted picnic table, one of half a dozen shielded by a lone-standing overhang built from the same wood once upon a time. It was a stop out in the middle of nowhere, back far enough from the main road that they could break here without risk of anybody or anything sneaking up on them. An occasional wind blew sheets of warm raindrops far enough inward that the two of them felt it, but neither was bothered.

Lunafreya’s poise was proper and dignified even now, her hands clasped in her lap as she grimly stared out over the rolling land in thought. She still wore a white dress, still looked too esteemed and important to be out here legging it like this. She hadn’t complained, though. Not yet. When they’d had to start walking, and then when the rain picked up, and even now as Vanitas gave his update, she responded each time with calm, collected silence.

“I see,” she said finally. “Then it would seem we have no choice.”

“Don’t we?”

She glanced at him and Vanitas held the look. “Through the blockade would be a lot faster,” he clarified matter-of-factly.

Despite her immediate frown, Lunafreya again thought before she spoke. “That is assuming they wouldn’t give chase--”

“That’s assuming there’d be anybody _left_ to give chase,” he interrupted. “I counted two dozen soldiers, give or take a few inside the buildings. I’m not worried about their machines. I can get in, clear out, and get you through before the cavalry gets here. If they show up sooner than expected, I can leave them with plenty of distractions.”

He could see Lunafreya’s mind working quickly behind those bright eyes, thoroughly thinking his proposition over. “You said we’re pressed for time,” he reminded her. “If you stay hidden, they won’t link me to you. But you said yourself that they should already be moving to intercept you.”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “Even if we draw their attention, the time we save by going through would give us a decent head start. And I believe we’re too far out at the moment for them to guess our first destination… assuming, as you say, that they have any reason to suspect my involvement just yet.” Her gaze drifted down to the weapon at his side. “You’re certain you can defeat an entire base?”

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t,” he replied brusquely. He’d healed his remaining aches on his own, thanks to the Keyblade ramping up his magic, and was now only a little sore between his ribs. The weapon had, as suspected, accepted him again as soon as he and Lunafreya set out, but Vanitas still carried it openly. He didn’t trust it enough to dismiss it, wary of it returning to Ventus the second it was out of his reach. He wasn’t sure if it _could_ do that, especially this far away from him, but he wasn’t going to chance it.

And with a fully powered Keyblade once again at his disposal, he was confident in handling the forces his Unversed had spied out.

Lunafreya nodded, unfazed by Vanitas’ disrespect. “I’ll go with you as far as I can.”

“Fine. We’ll head out right before dawn, after the daemons leave.” Vanitas had, of course, tested a few of the so-called threats the other night while Lunafreya slept, and he had to agree that it was best to avoid them. Fighting them took a lot of time and effort; dodging all of them in a given area was tricky, even for him. Trying to guard her at the same time would be asking for disaster. Since the sky overhead was already turning pink with dusk, and his Unversed hadn’t spotted any safe areas in the next five miles, the smart thing was to pass the night here and head out in the morning.

“Very well.” Lunafreya seemed to relax then, turning around to pull her legs over the bench and sit at the table proper. She hadn’t packed anything for the journey, which Vanitas had thought odd until their first few stops. Wherever she went, it seemed, there was somebody ready to dote on her and assist her with anything she asked (not that she ever asked for much). She kept her presence as quiet as she was able, preferring to slip into a town shortly before nightfall and leave by morning’s light. Sometimes she and Vanitas stayed at an inn in separate quarters, at others in small, one-room trailers. Last night they’d been hidden away in the back room of a diner, with her taking a small cot while he opted to sleep sitting up in the corner.

He didn’t mind the stealth approach; it lowered the odds of any Keyblade wielders catching wind of him if they came here, although he figured the loss of his mask and change of clothes already did him that favor. Nobody had mistaken him for Sora thus far, either, which was good.

Vanitas stepped up onto a bench to sit on the next table over. There were enough lamp posts around here to keep the daemons at bay during the night, but he would stay awake for most of it nonetheless.

“May I ask you something?” inquired Lunafreya suddenly. That kind of preamble could only mean the question was out of curiosity rather than necessity. After a deliberate several seconds, Vanitas looked at her, a permissive gesture. “The world you come from -- is it like this one?” she wondered. “Threatened by darkness?”

Well, that was complicated in more ways than one. He was silent for another pause before deciding to give the simplest (and honest) answer. “I don’t really come from anywhere. The place I stayed the longest was destroyed,” he said indifferently.

“Oh… I’m very sorry--”

“Don’t be.” It wasn’t like anybody had been sorry to see the Graveyard go, himself least of all. Even if he had been, he neither wanted nor needed her sympathy. “Has this world always been like this?”

“Not quite this bad, no. Not in a long time.”

“That must be why the Heartless are drawn here,” Vanitas mused. “They probably see the world’s darkness as a safe haven.” Meaning this world would be overrun with them soon, if they were left unchecked. He didn’t normally think out loud like this, but he had developed the tendency during his constant time around Ventus; after being alone for a month, having company again slipped him back into the habit rather quickly.

“All the more reason to make haste,” Lunafreya murmured. Vanitas looked at her again. Her eyes were downcast and narrowed in thought as she kept her musings on his words to herself.

That was one thing he could tolerate, maybe even almost like about her. She didn’t ask stupid questions or speak her mind without thinking like Ventus; she didn’t expect immediate and forthright answers like the Master always had. She also seemed pretty intelligent, which was why one thing still didn’t make sense in his mind.

“Sticking around to help me was one thing,” he told her, prompting a curious glance. “But actually trusting me like this is something else. Why, when the darkness is something you seek to destroy?” How had she known he wouldn’t kill her at the first opportunity? He’d figured she was desperate before, and to a degree she was, but she had no shortage of allies among the people.

Lunafreya held his look. The same uncertainty as before, the kind that had flickered over her face when he’d asked her something similar, was once again in her eyes. Then she turned away, gazing out at the rain that had finally started to let up.

“...There is darkness in you,” she admitted quietly after a long moment. “It runs very deep… but it is unlike the darkness that looms on the edges of this world. Yours…” When she turned to him again, her bright stare seemed to look past him. Through him. “...is frayed at the edges. Wounded -- or incomplete.” Vanitas’ eyes thinned. “I do not know you very well,” she continued, “and I will not pretend to. And yet…” Her interlocked fingers tightened briefly. “I do not believe your heart… is something to be purged. The shadows that rest upon it -- they are yours, but they are not all there is to you. You heart is touched by them, but not held captive.” Her eyebrows knitted together. “It is almost as though… it is seeking something.”

She was even more perceptive than he thought. “The Heartless aside, that’s reason enough to trust me? Putting yourself and your whole world at risk?”

To his surprise, Lunafreya stood up. To his greater surprise, she approached and, mimicking him, stepped onto his bench to join him in sitting on the tabletop. Not too close, but closer than one would be to a total stranger, surely.

“It is reason enough to know that you are still human,” she corrected him gently.

That only made him sneer. “And? Since when can’t humans be monsters?”

Lunafreya gave a sad smile then. “They can be. That is the nature of the free will that the gods bestowed upon us. But because of that same nature, we always have a choice. You chose to help me; whatever your reason, it was stronger than the impulses of the dark. And yet, I have seen men twice and three times your age who were overwhelmed by those impulses. It destroyed some of them. As for the others, it will eventually.”

_‘I think -- you could change. I know there’s more to you now -- I felt it.’_

_‘I wasn’t all that different from you, once. I let my nature consume me. I was controlled by it, rather than the other way around… Nobody’s ever too far gone.’_

Different words, different voice, but the same preaching. Another naive heart that was certain Vanitas could be more than what he was.

And yet, he wasn’t angry. He didn’t feel the need to lash out at Lunafreya over it, at least not as harshly as he might have once. He was starting to become indifferent to such an idiotic suggestion -- the very thought that there might be something “better” in his heart, that he could or would change the way he was -- because he’d realized that even entertaining that idea was beneath him. It wasn’t worth getting angry over.

_(“Anger… It is the most negative of emotions, and the strongest. You are doubtlessly aware of its power by now.”_

_Vanitas nodded once, watching his Master expectantly, even curiously. He wondered where this was going._

_“It feeds your darkness. Hatred, rage -- it is a source of darkness in itself. In the right mind, anger is strength. And yet, to most of the hearts in this wide World, anger is their largest weakness.”_

_“Why?” Vanitas rarely interrupted Xehanort’s lectures, but his confusion had gotten the better of him. Anger made him stronger. It spurred him forward when he was too tired to carry on; it put further brutality into his strikes, it gave him something to pull from when his body’s energy was otherwise spent. How could anybody be **weakened** by it?_

_Xehanort gave a low, contemplative hum. “It is nothing you could fully understand. But suffice to say that most hearts are not like yours -- they fear negativity. That fear leads to weakness, and so they are easily overwhelmed by it. It consumes them. Anger goes a step further. It clouds their minds, destroys reason. It can, at its worst, influence all other emotions.”_

_He turned, then, to look straight at Vanitas, a meaningful stare that was as heavy and emphatic as what he said next. “That is why you must remember, boy: anger is the surest and easiest way to control another being.”)_

Even something as small as this, a suggestion… No, _especially_ something as small as this -- Vanitas was better than letting it get to him. This was an anger that he couldn’t channel into something productive, and that was the dangerous kind. So like all the other negative emotions that crowded at the edges of his mind, endlessly shifting and rolling like dark and violent waves, he pushed it down. Smothered it. Took control, rather than letting it control him.

“Most people are weak,” he remarked, glancing sidelong at Lunafreya. “That’s why your world fears darkness. It can’t hope to survive what it doesn’t understand.” He stood up, dropped to the ground, and headed out into the fading sunlight. He didn’t go far, just enough to leap up onto the top of the overhang and sit there, beyond reach of Lunafreya’s company. It was still drizzling a little bit, but he barely felt it. The rainclouds were on their way out, past the mountain, and those approaching from the south would take a while to arrive.

He’d switch off with her on keeping watch later, just enough to let him get an hour or two of sleep.

* * *

For the next few weeks, Ven would spend nearly as much time with Aqua as Vanitas did with Lunafreya. Aqua didn’t seem to mind his enthusiasm; if anything, she appeared glad to be around him, whether she was explaining some concept or instructing him directly or actually sparring with him to test what he had been taught. Even when they stopped for breaks, she accompanied him to lunch or stayed nearby when he napped there in the grass. Ven would have thought she’d use her spare time between lessons to check up on the other wielders, especially Kairi, but if Aqua ever set foot outside the Land of Departure lately then she was doing so briefly and secretly.

His training was broken down into three parts: Aqua helping him to fine-tune his spell control and increase his magic stamina, Aqua teaching him the technique he had requested, and then Ven incorporating the combination of both into his new proposed method of fighting. It kept him busy, and unlike those weeks of bedrest it also kept his mind preoccupied and prevented him from dwelling on the past or the future longer than he needed to.

It wasn’t long before he found out that Terra had been the one to -- accidentally -- send Lea after Vanitas. While initially annoyed at them both for not telling him sooner, Ven was more relieved that Lea had returned safely. The two older wielders were now tracking Vanitas to the best of their ability, although Lea didn’t hide that the trail had gone cold. But, he assured them, that probably meant Vanitas was staying in one place.

Despite the strong desire to go with them, Ven didn’t ask them to take him along. He knew they couldn’t. Not yet. So he turned back to his training with twice as much fervor, intent on being ready by the time his other half was found.

To that end, he asked his new allies to stop by and help him out, and they didn’t disappoint. While Aqua was a fantastic teacher, Ven knew he couldn’t become comfortable against a single opponent’s style. Everybody fought differently and he needed that experience. Sora, Roxas, Xion, Kairi, even Mickey one afternoon -- they all did him the favor of letting him practice against them, and each time Ven walked away feeling that much better about his progress.

Riku surprised him late one evening, showing up after Sora and Kairi had already gone home. He looked cheerful, but it felt uncertain, even hollow; Ven had seen Terra do the same thing in the past, and could guess what it was about.

“Hey,” said Ven brightly, “you’re not still thinkin’ about what Vanitas did, are you?” When Riku blinked, stared, and came up speechless at that blatant addressing of the elephant in the room, Ven couldn’t help a gentle laugh. “Yeah, it’s kinda obvious. But seriously -- don’t worry about it, okay? Everything worked out.”

“Y-Yeah…”

Detecting the objection that was sure to follow, Ven shrugged, still smiling. “You can say sorry if it’ll make you feel better, but I won’t take it. _I_ messed up, not you or Terra or the Master or anybody else. Besides…” That smile turned a little crooked, a little sad. “Couldn’t’ve been easy. Fightin’ somebody who looks like your best friend.”

Riku held his gaze for a few heartbeats, and then finally looked away with a quiet sigh of a laugh. “You sound like _you_ want to say sorry, now.”

“If I did, would you take it?”

“No.” Now Riku shrugged. “That part -- his face -- it wasn’t too hard. A nasty surprise at first, but that’s it. The two of them… They’re as different as you and Roxas.”

“They’re more different than that,” Ven objected with a grin and a skeptical cock of his eyebrow.

Riku chuckled, pushing his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“So… since you’re here, mind helpin’ a guy out?”

* * *

Worlds away, Vanitas was surprisingly content with his situation. It wasn’t long before he deemed himself to be at full power once again, although his fighting style still suffered slightly under the awkward make of his stolen Keyblade. He had to trade some of his usual force for more speed, which meant his strikes weren’t as bold and he spent just as much time moving as he did attacking. He even gave in and began incorporating a backhand grip at times, finding that it felt more natural than forcing his own preference for wider, harder swings.

As predicted, the Empire’s soldiers were no match for him even in great numbers, although he definitely had to work for those victories. Their larger machines did push him more than expected, but he came out on top each time. The daytime monsters foolish enough to charge him were even simpler prey.

And he enjoyed it.

This, he realized one day, was what he had wanted: something to work towards and the power -- his _own_ power -- to do so. This was, ironically, the freedom he had fought so hard for, a fulfillment he could only achieve not by himself, but by cooperating with… no, by _working for_ somebody else.

He surprised himself again when he realized that he was okay with that. For now, at least.

As for Lunafreya, Vanitas was equally surprised by how tolerable she was turning out to be. She didn’t order him around, but she didn’t passively take orders from him, either. She trusted his word when it came to her safety, but otherwise wanted to be aware and up-to-date on any developments, and not just for the sake of knowing. She had wise input to offer at times, on the land or the Empire’s tactics or other things in this world of which he had no knowledge, and he found it best to listen when she spoke up. He was becoming more confident in his initial guess that she had a smart head on her shoulders.

She also seemed to regard -- respect? -- the details of his life as his own, nothing to be shared unless he decided to do so without prompting. He never did, of course. She was easy to talk to, he supposed, if “easy” meant they could complete a conversation without his getting annoyed or wanting to hurt her. Regardless, he had no reason to talk about himself, so he didn’t, and he had little interest in her life and less reason to ask her about it, so he didn’t bother with that, either. It was none of his concern why the Empire was after her in the first place, what being an Oracle meant, why these six gods were so crucial to her fight, or why that white dog came and went at random (along with a black lookalike that carried a book on his back, which Lunafreya would read and write in when they stopped and she had time). In return, Vanitas wasn’t questioned about the Keyblade, his dark nature, why he was in this world, or how he had been hurt so badly before. It was a mutual tolerance and, even better, a mutual silence.

If he was being totally honest with himself, Vanitas might have admitted that she was probably the best company he could ever recall keeping, aside from his Master. Maybe even better, since he was given much more room to think for himself when he was with her.

The worst thing (if not the _only_ thing) he could hold against her was the time she reached out and began to _pet_ one of his Floods, stroking it on the head like it was one of her dumb dogs. In her defense, it had probably been an absent gesture as they were conversing, and she couldn’t possibly have known that at this short range Vanitas would feel that touch as clearly as the Unversed did -- but excusable or not, he’d snapped a very terse _“Don’t. Do that.”_ The only thing more offensive than that patronizing gesture was the sense of deja vu it brought him, a disgustingly warm familiarity that didn’t come from his own memory. Lunafreya didn’t do it again.

Another unexpected development was how skilled he became at watching over her. The first week was rough; he didn’t trust her (or himself) enough to keep her around when a fight broke out, and with good reason. He completely lacked the mindset to keep an eye on anybody but himself, especially when he became as caught up in a fight as he tended to do. But as they traveled on and the terrain became more treacherous, the Heartless more aggressive, the forests and valleys and swamps so full of hostile wildlife that he couldn’t risk letting Lunafreya out of his sight, Vanitas knew he had to learn, and fast.

The biggest hurdle to that was forcing himself to become comfortable, or at least indifferent, to frequent contact. He couldn’t always intercept a threat with perfect timing, just as she couldn’t always keep up with him. Taking her hand, catching her arm, snatching her out of harm’s way -- they weren’t actions he could perform on the fly when every nerve in his body objected to them, at times almost violently. So, grudgingly, Vanitas stopped putting such a wide distance between them as they walked on; he forced himself to sit near her when they stopped to rest, he didn’t shoot her dirty looks when she touched his shoulder to get his attention -- and in his better moods he would even offer her a hand to help her to her feet when it wasn’t necessary. This was all with the sole intention of getting used to her presence and her light -- and for good or bad, it worked.

Protecting another person wasn’t quite as annoying as he had predicted. Troublesome, yes, but it could have been worse. There were a couple instances where he was a little too slow and took a blow meant for her, one of them a particularly nasty stab from an oversized hornet, but that wasn’t the worst he’d ever been through. He ignored her gratitude and apologies and didn’t care for her concern. As far as he was concerned Lunafreya was a means to an end, and it was about time she saw him the same way and quit bothering with pleasantries.

Two weeks after setting out, the two of them finally arrived at the first real point of interest. Standing atop a high ridge, they looked out over a vast, stony valley. Vanitas’ eyes followed the path of small craters stretching out over the land, coming finally to the largest in the very middle, the site of what had to have been a tremendous impact once upon a time. He detected energy in that direction, strong and warm, and… something else.

“One of the Six?” he guessed.

Lunafreya nodded. “Yes. The Archaean. The blue glow in the largest crater comes from the Meteor. We will have to go all the way there to commune with him.”

“All the way there…” Vanitas echoed. He scanned the winding road, already spotting what looked like an Imperial watch tower a mile down.

“The road will be heavily guarded,” Lunafreya warned grimly. “But they cannot know we are here.”

“So no confrontations this time.” Oh, well. It was fun while it lasted. Vanitas stepped around her, studying the lay of the landscape thoughtfully. This would be so much simpler if he felt like risking the use of Corridors. “...Then we’ll have to make a straight shot,” he proposed. “Offroad.” That was better with regards to remaining undetected, anyway. The people of this world lacked the ability to cross those craters, as wide as they were, so the Empire probably wouldn’t think to guard that way too closely, if at all. It was still wide open down there, however, so the two of them would have to be wary of their visibility.

“Are you prepared to go now?” Lunafreya asked. Despite having also seen those dangerous cliffs from here, she didn’t point out the obvious. She now trusted him to have something in mind, even if he wasn’t always direct with his plans.

“Yeah. Come on.”


	15. Crossing

“Vanitas still has not been found.” Eraqus answered Aqua’s question before she could ask it. She couldn’t help frowning, but she remained attentive all the same, awaiting his explanation for summoning her here to his study. “However, going by Lea’s estimate, there is only one other world which Vanitas could have feasibly reached in his state.” He turned away from the open window, hands behind his back and gaze settling on her intently. “Terra and Lea have already begun to search. I would like you to join them.”

Aqua kept her expression steady. “Yes, Master. If I may -- do you believe it will take all three of us to confront him? Or is this world really that dangerous?”

“Neither. The world in question is very large, much more so than average. Three pairs of eyes are more effective than two. Also…” Eraqus frowned, too, but it was a thoughtful look. “If Vanitas is indeed alive, I have little doubt you will find him there. Despite the end of the War, Terra tells me that darkness still hangs thick over that world. It would be the perfect location for somebody of Vanitas’ making to conceal himself. You have two objectives: locate Vanitas, and investigate the presence of the Heartless there.”

Aqua nodded. “I understand.”

“My previous orders stand: if confrontation is unavoidable, then do so, but I would prefer Vanitas alive, if feasible.”

“Of course.” The task was straight-forward enough. She was admittedly curious about this world still shrouded in darkness, but she figured she would get answers soon enough. Ideally. “Master,” she began hesitantly, “what about Ventus? I’ll need to tell him I’m leaving, but…”

Eraqus caught her implication. “It’s all right if he knows. He has agreed not to act out on his own, so keeping him in the dark isn’t necessary. I’ll inform him of where you’ve gone; it is time that I tested this method of his, besides.” Returning to stand behind his desk, he watched Aqua with a softer look now. “What are your thoughts on his progress, Aqua? In all honesty.”

“It’s… something else,” she remarked, for lack of better wording. “Honestly, at the start I wasn’t really sure he had the capacity for learning something like this. But he proved me wrong.” She smiled as she said it, radiating nothing short of pride. “He’s talented at it. And I have no doubt that he’ll master it.”

Eraqus hummed, his own smile much more subtle for the moment before it faded. “How much longer do you believe he’ll need before he’s able to depend on it in real combat?”

The question was inevitable, a reality Aqua had known she would have to face eventually, but she still didn’t like it. It still felt too soon, too blunt. For the sake of being fair to Ven, however, she barely hesitated before answering. “His technique isn’t perfect yet, but he still makes it work. He’s good at improvising when he has to. If he had to fight this very minute... I think he would be fine.” She watched her Master closely as she spoke, curious -- even a little anxious -- as to why he had asked that specifically, but he didn’t elaborate.

“Very good,” he remarked. “You’re dismissed. Make certain to keep in contact with Terra and Lea, and be careful.”

“Yes, Master.” She moved to take her leave.

“And Aqua--”

When she turned back, Eraqus looked solemn. “I’m sorry to ask this of you. I’m aware of your… unease, with regards to traveling in the Lanes now.”

Aqua blinked, opened her mouth, shut it again, paused, and then finally lowered her eyes. Had Terra told him? Or was it really that obvious? “I…” she began, but then changed her mind and gently shook her head. “It’s fine. I’ve avoided it for too long as it is… and I can’t keep doing so.” She was a wielder, a Master, and being afraid of traveling Between was unacceptable. It was an irrational fear, a sharp, knee-jerk spike of her pulse when that cold darkness pressed against her armor, stretching on forever in every direction, threatening to swallow and suffocate her with its weight and its silence, out there where nobody would hear her cry out, just like…

She shook her head again, more sharply this time. “I need to get over that fear, and there’s only one way to do that,” she said resolutely. As much as she had genuinely enjoyed spending time with Ven and helping him, a part of her had also been glad for the excuse to remain here and avoid traveling.

“...Very well.” Eraqus didn’t sound doubtful of her conviction, but his concern was plain in his eyes. Regardless, he respected her word. “Watch yourself. And keep me informed.”

“I will.”

* * *

The Master had spoken true. Despite the wonderfully bright, warm sun that greeted Aqua as she emerged from the cold Lanes, she could sense the darkness in this world immediately. It put her on edge and she began observing the area even before her eyes adjusted, but she appeared to be alone.

Her entrance had placed her beside a long stretch of train tracks. Looking left, she counted about a mile before it rose over the crest of a distant hill and then fell into a thick forest. Looking right, she watched it wind and disappear around the side of a mountain. The entire area here was forest and mountains, with a small train station and plaza nestled right in the thick of it.

Aqua wove through the small crowd of passers-by to where the surrounding trees opened up into a bright but cloudy sky, and there she stopped with a small sound of surprise. The station sat on the edge of an enormous ravine. Cradled between steep, rocky mountainsides peppered with green life, the gorge was deeper than what the eye could perceive, its bottom lost beneath a thick veil of mist.

What impressed her was the structure in the very middle of it. An enormous mass of stone appeared to be floating over the crevasse -- and built atop (or perhaps _into_ ) it was a walled, multi-level castle. A long stone bridge connected that area to this one, the only visible method of passage.

Setting her hands on the railing that guarded against a long drop, Aqua surveyed the area with open wonder. More buildings sat nestled against the mountains in the distance -- some higher, some lower than the castle -- and they were all connected by the same type of bridge. It was a kingdom, she realized. Each of the smaller, branching areas was part of the town, although the bottom-most level around the castle seemed large enough to contain a good number of people.

It reminded her of the Land of Departure, in many ways. If not for her Master’s warning and her own senses telling her to be wary, Aqua would have found it difficult to believe anything negative about such a beautiful place.

After a sobering reminder that she wasn’t here for sightseeing, she turned back towards the station. It was a good place to have landed; she wouldn’t stick out too much for asking questions about the area.

It didn’t take long. The locals were polite and welcoming and more than willing to answer her inquiries; in less than half an hour she had learned that the name of the kingdom was Tenebrae, that it was very old, and that while it was under Imperial jurisdiction (something nobody appeared pleased about) it was technically ruled by a woman known as the Oracle, the latest heir in a long-standing royal family. She was held in very high esteem, if the common opinion was anything to go by; while there seemed to be a somber cloud hanging over most of the people she spoke to, every face would smile and every voice grew warm when they spoke of Lady Lunafreya.

But this Oracle had departed on an errand a couple months ago, one elderly woman informed her, and nobody had heard of her since. All were worried, but most had faith that she would return to them when her task was done.

Other than that, the most noteworthy information was that of the “daemons” plaguing the outskirts of the kingdom. Their presence spanned back years, but only lately had a new kind appeared, one that could travel in the sun without fear of harm. Aqua didn’t have to press to know what was being described. Unfortunately, the locals had little to offer on that subject. The Heartless had appeared shortly after the Oracle’s departure, which many were beginning to believe were linked.

With all these new facts in mind, Aqua retreated to a quiet corner of the plaza and looked out at the distant castle once more. _It’s a shame the Oracle isn’t here,_ she mused. _She might be able to tell me something about the Heartless’ appearance._ But that was a dead end, it seemed.

“Pardon my saying so, milady, but you appear a tad misplaced. Are you a visitor?”

Aqua turned around, slightly startled that somebody had managed to draw so close without her noticing. The man who had spoken wore an amiable smile, but it was almost lost between a thick scarf, scraggly hair, and a wide-brimmed hat. His heavy coat and long sleeves topped his wardrobe off as being more fit for winter -- out of place, considering the warm weather.

Aqua returned the polite expression. “Yes, I am.”

The stranger reached up to remove his hat, bowing lightly with a sweeping gesture. “Well, then! Allow me to be of service. What might a foreigner such as yourself be searching for in Imperial territory?” There was a drawl to his smooth voice, something teasing in it, almost, despite his manners.

“I was wondering about the monsters that have shown up here,” Aqua told him. “The Heartless. I hear that they’ve been a problem for a while now.”

The man’s gaze slid away and upward, his mouth twisting in thought. “I believe I first heard rumor of them around two months past, perhaps. But only recently has Tenebrae had such trouble with them.”

“Do they attack the town often?”

“Oh, a couple times a week, I would say.” Placing his hat back on his head, the man moved in a half-circle around her as he looked out over the city. “Fortunately the kingdom has an advantageous location. Coupled with that, they are nothing the army can’t keep at bay.”

“But they can’t kill them,” Aqua guessed, “so they keep coming back. I would guess in larger numbers each time, which is why they’re worse now.”

“Quite the clever guess.” Coming to a halt, he peered at her with a thoughtful tilt of his head. “Now allow me to make one. If you know that much, I would wager that you also hold the key to defeating these creatures.”

She blinked. “Also? You met someone else?”

He wagged a finger in objection. “No, no, not quite. I’ve merely heard word of a young man who recently turned up -- just the other day, in fact. A foreigner like yourself, wielding a strange weapon. He struck down many of these ‘Heartless,’ but disappeared shortly after without so much as a word.”

Another wielder…? Aqua frowned. “Does anyone know why he was here?” she asked.

“I’m afraid I do not, although perhaps you can gain more insight by asking the locals. All I can say for the common consensus is that he fought not for sport, but with the intention of clearing every last monster from the kingdom. Quite the hero. But, while we’re playing guessing games, I’ll also wager that he was under orders of some sort.”

_So… Terra or Lea must have been here. If he already left, does that mean he didn’t find anything?_ After pondering that for a moment, Aqua asked, “Sir, did you hear anything else about this young man?”

Again, the stranger paused to consider. “Now that I think about it,” he mused slowly, “there was talk of his going to the castle. Not too surprising, considering the Oracle’s presence.”

“The Oracle? The townspeople are saying she’s missing.”

“As well they would -- for she still is, as far as they are aware.”

“...She’s here in secret?” Aqua wondered. Folding her arms, she murmured more to herself, “I wonder why that would be.”

“These are dark times, stranger. Royalty does what it must to keep the world turning, even if it means being less than honest with one’s subjects.”

“I see…” Aqua turned towards the distant castle. Since she was here already, she figured, it was worth trying to meet with the Oracle. At the very least, she could hopefully get an idea of where Terra and Lea had headed. Such a detour would bring her no closer to Vanitas, unfortunately, but she couldn’t ignore this opportunity. With her mind made up she smiled at the man again. “Thank you for your help.”

“The pleasure’s _all_ mine.” His smile grew as well, but it looked more amused than anything else. “I do hope you find your friend.”

* * *

Not too surprisingly, Aqua found the castle well guarded. Armed men and women stood everywhere, their presence particularly thick around the innermost gate and along the walls. Equally unsurprising were the stern looks she received as she drew near, and the _“Halt!”_ of what appeared to be a higher ranking officer as he approached her.

“What business have you? The castle is closed in the absence of the Oracle.”

“My name is Aqua,” she replied calmly. “I’m a traveler. I’m chasing the monsters known as Heartless -- and I heard this kingdom has had trouble with them recently.”

The man regarded her with a stoic expression, but his silence betrayed his curiosity. When he didn’t stop her, she continued, “I seek an audience with the one ruling in the Oracle’s place. My weapon is the only kind that can destroy these creatures. I’d like to help, if your leader will have me.”

Again the guard hesitated, again his hard stare bore into her, but after a long stretch he finally glanced aside. Immediately a younger man hurried up to him and a low exchange was made between the two, too quiet for Aqua to catch. After a few seconds the young guard turned to hurry off through the gate; the other turned back to Aqua. “We will pass your request to the steward. Wait here.”

Aqua did just that -- and it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes before the messenger came hurrying back. He bypassed the older guard with a serious nod and approached Aqua directly. “This way, Miss. She will see you now.”

Rather than relief, Aqua only felt concern. If the Oracle was in hiding, but so quick to meet with a stranger… the situation must have been worse than she thought.

She was led across the courtyard, up the stairs, and through the double doors into the castle proper. She passed guards and servants in the long, naturally lit corridors, but it wasn’t crowded by a long shot. There was an unsettling stillness in the place, a heavy silence. Tragedy, sadness… Even without knowing its history, Aqua felt them hanging in the air like a fog. Maybe it was just a hunch, maybe it was something else.

She expected such a meeting to be held in an audience hall, but instead she was directed into an office. It was large but cozy, not all that different from her Master’s study except that it lacked a personal touch. It lacked warmth. The furniture didn’t strike her as _new_ as much as _barely used_ , and only a couple cracked paintings on the walls served as real decoration. The rest was necessity, tables and lamps and books.

By the window in a tall armchair sat a woman -- a young, lovely woman. Draped in a white dress, she was tall and delicate in appearance, and--

_Light._ For a moment Aqua forgot her place and stared, pausing mid-step. The feeling of light radiating from this woman was _strong_ \-- bright, pure, and easily on par with the eight other instances in which Aqua had sensed something like it.

“The Lady Lunafreya,” the guard introduced.

Snapping back to attention, Aqua quickly bowed. “Your Highness,” she greeted. “Please forgive me for intruding. My name is Aqua.”

“It’s quite all right.” Lunafreya’s voice was as gentle as her countenance and as warm as her Light. “There is no need for apologies. We are blessed to have another wielder of the Keyblade among us.”

Even if a wielder had passed through, Aqua was slightly taken aback that she would know that name. “Yes. I was told another came through here recently.”

Lunafreya nodded. “Rest assured, you did not miss him. He remains.”

It was one surprise after another. “He’s still here?”

“Yes. He has seen me safely through a long journey.” Lunafreya’s polite smile changed a little, appearing fond. “I owe him much already, and now he protects this kingdom. He is strong, but I fear I ask too much of one person. Your arrival is welcome, Aqua, and your assistance would be appreciated.”

As puzzling as this conversation had become, Aqua nodded. “I’ll do what I can. I understand the Heartless have gotten worse lately?”

Lunafreya’s cheer faded. In the absence of her smile, Aqua abruptly noticed how tired she looked: there were shaded circles under her eyes, dark against her face, which was considerably paler than the skin on her arms. Her long fingers gripped the arms of her chair tight. “Yes. Fortunately, they have a tendency to target the castle, where our forces are more easily gathered and we are better shielded.”

That made sense. Between Lunafreya’s strong light and a Keyblade lingering nearby, the creatures would naturally hone in on where they could target both.

“They have yet to breach the grounds, but I fear it is only a matter of time,” she went on. “I am aware that they seek me in particular -- so once I depart, I pray Tenebrae will be safer for it.”

“And this wielder,” Aqua wondered, “he’s going with you?”

“Yes--” Lunafreya’s gaze suddenly shifted from Aqua’s face to a point over her shoulder -- in the same instant that Aqua felt a familiar chill at her back, sharp and cold enough to make every muscle in her body tense up. “Here he is,” said Lunafreya warmly, but Aqua barely heard her. She whipped around, her pulse already doubled after sensing the touch of darkness. She expected Heartless -- only to gasp loudly.

_“You?!”_

That face -- so much like Sora’s but at the same time drastically different. Too sharp, too serious, his eyes too narrow and yellow and cold -- and his voice, when he spoke, was too flat, too uncaring, too deep and blunt.

“Aqua.” In contrast, he didn’t look at all surprised to see her.

“You--” Too quickly, making too much imperfect sense, Lunafreya’s words lined up in her mind and Aqua connected the messy dots. “You’re the wielder…?”

“Were you expecting somebody else?” Utterly unfazed by her presence, Vanitas strode past her -- and Aqua instantly felt the impulse to summon her Keyblade and attack him, to keep him away from Lunafreya, to whom he was surely a threat--

\--Except that the way he approached her, stopping beside her chair to turn and face Aqua, his poise alert and natural, and with Lunafreya not so much as batting an eye at his proximity…

What was going _on?_

Aqua’s reaction hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Is something wrong?” Lunafreya asked -- but she addressed _Vanitas._

He made a dismissive sound as he continued to eye Aqua. “No. We didn’t exactly part on good terms, but that’s not a problem. Is it, Aqua?”

It was then that Aqua realized what was off about him: he had changed into a more normal set of clothes. And at his side--

She felt her blood run cold with shock, and then hot with anger. Hanging at his side was Ven’s Keyblade.

_“Is it?”_ he repeated with emphasis. Aqua forced herself to meet his gaze. She glanced at Lunafreya, who continued to look concerned. She felt the intense stares of the guards standing by the door. And she realized that nothing she said, that no crime Vanitas had committed so many worlds away from this one, none of which she could prove, would mean a thing to this woman who clearly trusted him with her life.

“...No,” said Aqua finally, her voice stiff. “Nothing’s wrong, Your Highness.”

* * *

“ _What_ are you doing here?”

Twenty awkward minutes later, Aqua and Vanitas emerged onto a large patio overlooking an even larger garden, now tinted with the color of twilight. Her demand of a question came the second they met the warm evening air, but he ignored her as the doors swung shut behind them. He pulled ahead of her to look out over the distant skyline.

At length, he answered her question with a question. “How many of you are here?” When she didn’t reply, he shot her a brief, level look. “Not Ventus, I assume.”

“He’s alive,” she all but spat back. Pride and anger ran in her tone.

“I know.” He turned his back on her and again her eyes went to Ven’s Keyblade. It was so close… “So how short of a leash are you keeping him on now?” he mused. “Or did you finally just lock him up in his room for the rest of his life?” Again silence fell. Again he changed the subject. “You want to know what I’m doing here?” He faced her once more, arms crossing as he leaned back against the iron railing. “Same as you. Making a living.”

Aqua scowled. “Why are you helping her?”

“Because I benefit from it,” he said obtusely. “Not that it’s any of your concern -- or Lunafreya’s. I kill anything that comes near her, she doesn’t ask any questions.”

“You expect me to believe you’re willingly helping somebody like her -- a heart of light?”

“Believe it or not. Makes no difference to me.”

He wasn’t going to tell her anything. Aqua looked again at Ven’s Keyblade, this time openly. “Lea told us what happened,” she said coldly. “It’s rejected you.” Vanitas said nothing. “There’s no reason for you to keep it,” she insisted. Even so, she knew he wouldn’t just hand it over. “What do you want for it?”

He cocked an eyebrow, his first change of expression so far. “You’re the last one I’d expect to try bargaining.”

Then he was right. She didn’t plan on giving him anything; she was just grasping for an idea of his intentions. “What would it take for you to give it back?” she pressed.

She saw his fingers tighten on his biceps. His eyes thinned and flashed. Despite his still posture, Aqua could tell she had caught his undivided attention.

“Mine,” he told her.

A simple answer -- but an impossible offer. Her silence spoke for her again and Vanitas snorted. “No doubt your Master’s forbidden it, right?”

Aqua still said nothing.

With a low grunt Vanitas pushed off the railing, his arms falling to his sides. He studied her for several long seconds. “...It’s not like he has to know.”

She stared. He held it.

“You’re a Master,” he reminded her. It was a matter-of-fact statement; gone was his usual cutting disregard and sarcasm. “Passing on the power is child’s play for you. It wouldn’t even take that long.” He moved towards her left, his movements slow and relaxed. “Just a few words, right? You know them. Even Ventus knows them… He’s known the ritual ever since Terra gave him that toy of his.”

She turned half a step to follow him, unwilling to let him slip behind her into a blind spot.

“You can end this, Aqua. You can take Ventus’ Keyblade home to him today. Tell your Master you killed me; I’ll disappear and you’ll never have to see me again.”

_It’s not like he has to know._ If Vanitas _did_ go away… that was true. If he didn’t cause any trouble, was never heard from again… Nobody would find out.

“I won’t even come after Ventus,” he offered. “It’s not like I’d have any reason to.”

Aqua’s gaze hardened, skeptical, but he met it easily as he continued to circle her. “What’s the alternative?” he wondered. “Eventually, he comes after me to get it himself. He has to fight without a Keyblade. Is that really a chance you want him to take?”

_No._ No, it wasn’t. Even with all his training and progress and promise… Aqua didn’t want him risking it. Not against any enemy, but especially not this one. Her gaze began to drop.

“You can stop that from happening,” Vanitas reiterated. He stood to her right, just within arm’s reach. “All you have to do is pass me the power. That’s it.”

Part of her believed him, or at least wanted to. He had to be tired of dodging them, of hiding from them while he was powerless. Getting his Keyblade back, faking his death -- it was two birds with one stone. He’d get what he wanted and not have to worry about being chased. And Aqua… Aqua would be protecting Ven and Terra. Ven, who was trying so hard to prepare for a battle he shouldn’t have to face -- and Terra, who was doing everything in his power to track Vanitas down so Ven wouldn’t have to.

She _could_ end this now. Which was worse -- conspiring with the enemy, disobeying her Master, but ultimately protecting somebody she loved? Or walking the straight-and-narrow like always, keeping a clear conscience, but forcing Ven to put his life on the line when she could have prevented it?

_‘He’ll always be dangerous,’_ Ven had said. _‘Every Keyblade wielder is. But all he has left now is himself. As long as he’s not threatened… maybe we won’t have to worry about ‘im.’_

“Do it,” Vanitas urged. He was nearly at her shoulder now, his voice low. She didn’t pull away.

If she couldn’t trust Vanitas’ word, she knew she could trust Ven’s.

Except… that wasn’t _all_ Ven had said.

_‘I meant what I said before -- I want to see Vanitas again. See if I can talk him down. But… I won’t pretend it’ll be that easy. I think… I_ know _I’ll have to fight him again. Before it’s over.’_

This wasn’t just about the Keyblade. This was about Ven doing what he believed in -- even if Aqua couldn’t understand it. Even if she didn’t agree with it.

She loved him. She would do anything to protect him. And yet… she couldn’t continue to make his choices for him. He had his own life to live -- he was growing up. Taking that freedom of choice away from him, assuming control of his decisions… She had no right. Even if her intentions were good, she couldn’t disrespect him like that. Not again.

She needed to trust him. She needed to believe in him.

“No.” That quiet word seemed to echo in the courtyard as it dropped a weight into her chest. She didn’t look at Vanitas, but she didn’t need to. She could already feel the heat of his glare. A moment later he abruptly withdrew from her, re-establishing a more comfortable distance between them.

“Fine,” he grunted. “We’ll do it the hard way.”

“What?”

“Tell Ventus to meet me here, in this world. Alone.”

Aqua’s irritation came back full-force as she watched his retreating back. “Why would I do that?”

“Because,” he said slowly, with weight, as he turned to look her square in the eye, “if he doesn’t, I’ll kill the Oracle.”

Vanitas might as well have kicked her in the stomach. Aqua’s breath left her sharply and she stared at him in disbelief. _Why_ , she started to ask, but she stopped herself. That didn’t matter. “I won’t let you do that,” she countered. “If I tell her what you really are--”

He sneered. “You think she doesn’t know? Besides, who do you think she’s going to believe? The one who’s risked his life to protect her for the past couple months, or some stranger who shows up out of nowhere and tells her that she’s been stupid enough to trust him?” He was too clever for that bluff. Aqua faltered. No, there had to be another way-- “You’re going to leave now, Aqua,” he continued coolly. “I’ll give Ventus one week. When he does arrive, I won’t be in this city. But he’ll know how to find me.”

“I’m _not_ sending him to you. After what you did--”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to live knowing you had a hand in destroying this world, won’t you.” Vanitas continued to hold her gaze. “I know you can feel it. There’s a darkness here that even my Master never touched. It runs deeper than anything you people could begin to fathom. And Lunafreya? She’s the last beacon of true light. I don’t have to think very hard to figure what might happen if that light was snuffed out.”

How long had he been planning this? “You’re lying,” Aqua challenged. She _hoped._

“I might be. But are you willing to stake her life on a guess?”

Aqua recalled the respect in the Oracle’s tone, the warmth as she spoke of Vanitas’ loyalty, her complete ease as he stood at her side. Somebody so full of light would have surely sensed the darkness running beneath the surface, and yet…

“How… How _could_ you?” Aqua demanded, her voice rising. “She trusts you -- she spoke so highly of you -- I almost thought--”

“Make no mistake,” Vanitas interrupted, “she’s nothing to me.” His tone held the same cold indifference as usual, but his expression wasn’t as neutral. It had darkened, hardened, betraying some inner irritation at Aqua’s misconstrued assumption. “I’ll throw her away just like I did Ventus -- and this time I won’t leave any loose ends for you to stitch back together.”

Her hands balled into fists at her sides. It was rare for her to be this angry, but Vanitas’ complete disregard, his self-centered apathy… It shouldn’t have been so surprising, coming from Xehanort’s protege, but it managed to shake her all the same. This situation… it was Ven all over again. Vanitas was threatening to hurt Lunafreya the same way, taking advantage of her kindness and repaying her trust with taking her life -- and on top of that, thousands or even millions of lives could be lost--

This went beyond Ven now. Vanitas had to be stopped.

Aqua moved, her Keyblade flashing into her hand as she closed in on Vanitas in a heartbeat. With practiced precision he tore Ven’s weapon from his belt to brace against her attack with both hands -- but Aqua had speed and force and surprise on her side. He was knocked backwards into the railing, but quickly recovered and rolled to the side to avoid her next swing. Sparks lit the air as steel met iron.

Despite the disadvantage of his Keyblade, Vanitas didn’t rely on defense. On the contrary, he dropped into a crouch and launched directly at her. She parried his swing and redirected it away from herself, pivoting on one foot to face him again--

And they each froze in the same instant. Aqua’s expression was openly startled, but Vanitas was more controlled and only showed awareness in the way his shoulders tensed. They had both sensed it: a cold spot nearby -- now several, a dozen, more--

_Heartless?_ That sensation became nearly overwhelming at the same time that they both noticed the pairs of yellow eyes peering up at them from the dark garden. As they watched, more and more blinked into existence. There were so many--

A man’s voice barked out the second story window, followed immediately by the sounds of battle breaking out.

“They’re in the castle--” The thought had barely left Aqua’s mouth when Vanitas zipped past her, slamming his way through the patio doors and disappearing around the corner in a blur. She began to give chase, but a handful of Shadows rose up out of the pavement to intercept her. Frowning, she quickly called up an offensive spell.

Minutes later she made it to the main hall. Heartless were everywhere, as were the guards fighting to hold them off -- but what immediately drew her focus was the biggest Heartless in the center of them all. Nearly as tall as a Dark Side, it loomed far above the rest, its head nearly brushing the high ceiling. It stood on two legs and was shielded by a thick covering of armor, its strong arms wielding an enormous scimitar.

Aqua barely had time to be startled by its size -- it stood beside the double staircase that led up to Lunafreya’s office, and right at that moment the Oracle herself appeared through the doors. The enormous Heartless instantly turned towards her.

_No--_ Aqua pushed forward, but dozens of smaller Heartless blocked her path and slowed her down. She lifted her Keyblade for a spell, but too late: the giant swung its sword, moving much too fast for its size, in a move meant to cut Lunafreya straight in two.

At the last second Lunafreya raised her arms. There was a bright flash of light as the Heartless’ weapon appeared to strike her -- and suddenly she was thrown back against the wall, where she slumped heavily to the floor. Battered, but still in one piece. Again Aqua moved to cast, but a handful of Shadows chose that moment to leap at her and she was forced to defend herself. When next she looked, Lunafreya had only managed to rise partway to her feet -- and now the Heartless had drawn back its fist to crush her where she stood.

Aqua did get a spell off this time, but her Firaga might as well have bounced off that armor for all the damage it did. Blocking another Shadow’s leap for her face, she could only watch as the giant’s strike quickly closed in on Lunafreya once again -- only for a black blur to to tackle her out of the way as the fist shattered the wall in a roar of splintering wood and plaster a hairsbreadth and half an instant later.

That blur took shape as Vanitas. Aqua, continuing to fight her way towards them, watched as the two tumbled and bounced harshly down the stairs, landing in a heap on the hard floor with Vanitas taking the brunt of the impact -- and despite there being an opening in the crowd of Heartless right at that moment, it was here that she had to stop and stare. Vanitas had wrapped himself around Lunafreya during their fall, even going so far as to shield her head by tucking it against his chest. The instant they touched down, he was already moving to crouch over her and strike out at the first Heartless that tried to approach.

He hadn’t been exaggerating. He fought to protect Lunafreya -- and the bleeding cuts on his face and hands, byproducts of the shrapnel he’d shielded her from, were a testament to how seriously he took that role.

_But why?_

Once more, the enormous Heartless turned towards them -- but before Aqua could even start to react, a flash of light cut in front of the creature. Without warning, its left arm suddenly disintegrated in a large plume of shadowy smoke.

Before the Heartless there now stood a man. He was tall with platinum-colored hair, dressed in shades of white and silver. In his right hand was a long sword -- and from its blade simmered the same dark wisps that drifted off the Heartless’ severed stump.

He had his back to Aqua and he didn’t turn as he spoke. His voice was loud, commanding, and had no issue being heard above the chaos. “Vanitas! Take her and go.” At that point he did chance a sidelong glimpse at the boy in question. Aqua caught a narrow gaze and sharp features. “ _Do not_ fail.”

Vanitas met that look, but he didn’t answer. He only caught Lunafreya’s hand and hauled her up onto her feet, at which point the man turned back to the Heartless. Its missing arm was actually regrowing; in seconds it would be completely whole again. “This creature will not follow.”

Aqua was forced to move then, battering several NeoShadows aside with Blizzaga as they tried to rush the man from the side. She stepped up beside him a moment later, earning a stern glance. “Allow me,” she offered, although it wasn’t a request. He said nothing either way, but only shifted his sword into a two-handed hold as the giant honed in on them, its yellow stare fixed on Aqua’s Keyblade.

It wasn’t as though Vanitas would get very far without using Corridors, Aqua reasoned -- and pursuing them could actually endanger Lunafreya further if this Heartless wasn’t dealt with.

_First things first._

* * *

The second Aqua joined Ravus in the fight, Vanitas knew his chance was now or never. Still clutching Lunafreya’s hand, he led her quickly through the room-turned-battlefield, grateful -- but not _that_ grateful -- for the competent guards who moved to cut down the Heartless in his way and clear a path for their Oracle.

Once in the adjacent corridor, things looked much better. There was room to run and run they did, out onto the same patio where Vanitas had conversed with Aqua. They had planned for this escape route in case the Empire interfered, and now seemed as good a time as any to use it. As they hurried across the grass, the odds looked promising -- right up until Lunafreya suddenly fell to her knees, forcing Vanitas to stop.

He rounded on her and saw that she was breathing hard, her hand over her heart. He checked his irritation. She wasn’t just out of breath.

_Again?_ This was happening more frequently. What that meant for her in the long run, Vanitas didn’t have the time or heart to care, but at the moment it meant she was virtually dead weight. “I’m sorry,” she panted weakly. “I just -- need a moment.”

He sensed Heartless drawing closer. Between her light and his Keyblade, they might as well have had a spotlight on their location. They needed to move, now.

“We don’t have a moment,” he told her flatly. Without so much as a warning, Vanitas leaned down to slip one arm behind her knees while the other took firm hold of her shoulders. He found her to be even lighter than estimated and lifted her easily. “Keep still,” he told her. As long as he was mindful of his surroundings, there would be no risk of dropping her. 

By the time they made it through the hidden space in the stone wall, it had started to rain. The grounds were nearly pitch-black beneath the clustered trees, meaning Vanitas only went as fast as he dared on the wet grass. Even minutes later when the shadows parted and the ground gave way to solid cobblestones as he emerged onto a street, his going wasn’t much easier. Although he could manage Lunafreya’s weight, he wasn’t used to carrying a body like this. It was awkward, and he already hated the feeling of his reactions being slowed, if it came to that. The sharp pain in his side elevated the task from cumbersome to difficult, as well.

Fortunately, the Heartless either hadn’t followed them this far or were very slow in their pursuit. Doing his best to watch every direction through the thickening curtain of rain, Vanitas headed downhill, away from the bridge that led back toward the train station.

Lunafreya was quiet and remained still as requested, but it wasn’t long before her head dropped against his chest and her shoulders sagged. If she was still conscious, it wasn’t by much. This was the first time Vanitas had seen her fatigue hit her so hard; it usually came in small, occasional bursts, lasting only a few minutes to an hour at worst. Today, that exhaustion had clung to her limbs -- and oftentimes her face -- since he first saw her early in the morning. In the last few weeks of noticing the slow decline in her stamina, he had never asked and she had never explained… but if it had come to this, perhaps he needed to.

Later. For now his priority was getting the both of them out of there.

The rendezvous point was exactly as it was supposed to be, a small black car parked outside a dark brick building. The car was unlocked, fortunately, so after some tricky maneuvering Vanitas managed to open the back door without dropping Lunafreya. He leaned inside to lie her out along the backseat -- she was out cold now -- and then moved around to the front and punched the steering wheel. The horn rang out brief and sharp, the only sound above the heavy rain. After a few seconds, the front door of the building opened and a man hurried out. He was dressed casually, probably to avoid detection, but he was supposed to be among the House guard.

Skipping the pleasantries, Vanitas ducked into the back of the car and closed the door behind himself. The man had only just slid into the driver’s seat when Vanitas ordered, _“Go.”_

As the car began to move, he slumped onto the floor behind the passenger seat. Lunafreya remained unresponsive, as he figured she would be for a while. For the first time, he allowed a pained grimace to cross his face as the last of his adrenaline faded and the burning in his ribs amplified. Gingerly pulling back the left side of his jacket, he looked down at where a sharp piece of broken wood protruded from his side, the exposed portion about half a foot long and as thick as his wrist.

There was nothing to do about it now. As much as he liked to think he could handle it just fine on his own, he wasn’t entirely faithful in his ability to pull out the shaft, retain consciousness through the pain _and_ blood loss that would inevitably follow, and heal himself quickly enough to avoid making the situation worse. As it was now, the blood flow wasn’t terrible, so pulling it out wasn’t immediately necessary. It hurt horribly, but there wasn’t much to be done for that, and the pain would keep him awake and aware, at least.

Settling back against the door, Vanitas closed his eyes and tried to distract himself by collecting his thoughts. He had done a lot of thinking in the last few weeks: about his stolen Keyblade, about Ventus, about the inevitable end of this journey. Eventually, Lunafreya would no longer need him and he would be right back to where he had been before, with a busted Keyblade and no goal. He didn’t intend to go around doing good deeds in hopes that the Keyblade would continue to approve of him; he needed to find a more permanent solution. After weeks of mulling it over, he had arrived at only two possibilities. One was risky, and the other…

Well, Aqua showing up when she had was a stroke of good luck (for once). Vanitas had always known that it was only a matter of time before they came to this world, so he’d simply taken the opportunity to drop his ultimatum a little sooner than planned. The Heartless attack and subsequent chance at escape were equally lucky.

He didn’t doubt that his demands would be met -- assuming word of his threat actually got back to Ventus. He wouldn’t dare risk an innocent life for his own safety, so as long as Aqua and Terra didn’t coddle him further by hiding this whole thing from him, he would come.

It wasn’t long before the cramped space began taking its toll: breathing was becoming more and more difficult in this position, each inhale more shallow and painful than the last, and every bump in the road was felt in his burning wound, especially when the piece of shrapnel brushed against the back of the seat. With a suppressed snarl Vanitas finally -- slowly -- pushed himself up to sit beside Lunafreya’s knees, but the effort it required from his core muscles to stay upright was torture. He considered moving to the front to take the passenger seat, but besides his uncertainty as to whether he could do so without passing out first, he didn’t want to be even that far away from Lunafreya. If he did lose consciousness, it would be too easy for someone to sneak in and take her. Ravus had sworn by the driver’s loyalty, but Vanitas wasn’t so easily convinced.

His jaw locked with pain, he looked down at his charge -- specifically, at the seat beneath her that was wide enough for two. When he hesitated, another bolt of agony shot through his middle, this time ricocheting as far up as his shoulders. He’d have to sacrifice one comfort for another, it seemed, so he pushed his discomfort down and lay beside her.

He was vaguely displeased to find there was no way of avoiding contact with her, but it was a small issue and the throbbing in his ribs didn’t leave much room for complaints. Stretching out like this helped a lot more than expected; for all the pain he was still in, it was definitely less than before and breathing came a little easier. For that, he could deal with Lunafreya’s arm under his head, her legs against his, and that frustrating, unwanted warmth of her bright, neverending light at his back.

Vanitas inhaled and exhaled slowly, ignoring her presence and trying to find a rhythm that minimized the pain. He didn’t.


	16. Counting Down

“You sure you wanna keep going? We can take a break, you know.”

Ven leaned over with his hands on his knees, needing a moment to catch his breath. “Yeah. Aqua’s great at training... but she still doesn’t want to push me... too hard.”

Sora crossed his arms with a frown. “Uhh… maybe she’s onto something?”

“Heh. I’m fine,” Ven assured him cheerfully. He straightened up again to prove it, heedless of the bright afternoon sun that continued to beat down on the grassy summit. “I was just lyin’ around for too long. And fighting like this takes some gettin’ used to.”

“No kidding. How long can you hold it now?”

“About three minutes, I think.” Ven wiped an arm across his damp forehead. “Longer if I don’t use a lot of spells in between.”

“You think that’s enough?”

“...Maybe,” said Ven uncertainly. “But I wanna keep pushing -- I need to get as much time on it as possible.”

“I guess so. But you look like you’re already pushing pretty hard.”

_I have to,_ Ven thought, but he kept it to himself. It must have shown on his face somewhat, since Sora tilted his head with a hum.

“You’re really sure you need to fight this guy, huh.”

Ven nodded. “Vanitas… He’s the kind of person who talks with actions, not words. I get that now.”

“So you think fighting’s the only way to get through to him?”

“Mm. I know it sounds crazy -- but he isn’t going to change on his own.” _Maybe he never will._ That was the more probable outcome in all of this. “But…”

Sora surprised him with a laugh. “You don’t have to explain. I get it.”

“You do?”

“Sure. Sometimes fighting is the only way to get your point across, you know? To prove how serious you are -- or to show you really care.”

_Care._ Was that the right word? Did Ven actually _care_ about Vanitas at this point? Or was it something else? Guilt, maybe, in the wake of so much death and destruction in the war -- the reluctance to lose somebody else, even if that somebody was an enemy? Or perhaps the fear of losing what he could no longer deny was still a very close, very personal part of himself?

His past remarks to Terra and Aqua had been honest: Vanitas was neither friend nor ally. It was difficult to imagine he ever would be, but that wasn’t what Ven wanted. What he _wanted_ was to give Vanitas a choice, without Xehanort pulling his strings or his dark bias clouding his judgment. Maybe Vanitas was too far gone for that; maybe Xehanort’s teachings were too deeply etched into him and the darkness would never give him up while he lived.

But Ven didn’t know that for sure. Nothing was certain, which was why he would at least try. Looking at it that way, he supposed he _did_ care, at least a little.

“Yeah,” he agreed finally. He gave Sora a crooked smile. “I guess that’s one way of putting it.”

“Right! So -- you wanna take a break before we keep going?”

“How about we work on defense a little? Then we’ll take a break. Really,” Ven added, when Sora cocked a questioning eyebrow. That assurance was enough, apparently, since Sora quickly bobbed his head in approval.

“Okay! The usual?”

“Yep--”

“Ven!”

They both turned to see Terra coming up the mountain path. He beckoned both boys with a wave. “Master Eraqus is calling a meeting.” There was something a little too serious in his otherwise neutral tone, enough to make Ven frown as he and Sora hurried to catch up with him.

“Did something happen?”

“We’re all back safely,” Terra assured him. Intentionally or not, he didn’t answer the question. “He wants all of us to be there for Aqua’s report.”

Aqua… She had only left yesterday. “What happened?” Ven pressed.

Terra gave him a strange look before turning away, leading them back the way he’d come. “It’ll be faster if she tells us all at once.”

With his frown deepening and the sinking feeling in his stomach growing heavier, Ven kept silent and followed.

* * *

By the time they entered the hotel room, Vanitas was in too much pain to pretend he didn’t need help. When he stumbled a step too far this time and Lunafreya’s arms caught him, he didn’t push her away or try to take his weight back. His focus was entirely on trying to keep his core muscles stiff -- a failed effort -- and he didn’t even pay attention to where she was leading him until the bathroom light clicked on and nearly blinded him.

“Stop here,” he hissed. She obeyed and helped him sit down on the tile floor, but still kept a grip on one of his hands as she knelt beside him.

“You’ll need to lie down,” she told him. “Can we remove your jacket?”

With his consent she carefully helped him out of it. He didn’t object when she removed the Keyblade from his belt and set it aside, when she placed some towels behind him, or even when she helped him lie back. Leaning over him, she took the hem of his bloodied shirt and tore it open along the hole that the shrapnel had left, exposing his side and chest. Her face was already grim, but as she took in the extent of his injury she somehow managed to look even more grave.

“I think it’s best that I look for a doctor,” she told him. “If it’s removed--”

“--then they can’t do anything more than we can,” Vanitas pointed out, unclenching his jaw long enough to speak properly. “If you can heal me and keep me conscious, I’ll handle the rest.”

Lunafreya shot him a doubtful look. “What if you can’t?”

“Then you’ll have a choice to make.” It wasn’t like he would be able to argue with her at that point, anyway. The odds of her finding a doctor in this middle-of-nowhere stop were thin at best, and certainly not worth the time she would waste by trying. More importantly, he didn’t want to risk her being seen and captured while he was still here, writhing on the floor. Her connection to his Keyblade aside, he couldn’t do this on his own.

Her lips a thin line, she looked again at the shaft of wood that had punctured his side.

“If you can’t do this--” he began.

“I can,” she said firmly. She never interrupted him like that. If her manners were taking a backseat in this situation, he figured that was testament to her resolve.

“...All right.” Breathing in once, slowly, Vanitas collected his thoughts, and then spoke them out loud. “You need to remove it. Fast. I’ll start a healing spell as soon as it’s out.” That was probably wishful thinking. “If I have trouble, back me up.”

She nodded. “Understood.” Inching closer to his side, she braced her left palm against his hip and carefully wrapped her fingers around the beam. Even that simple touch agitated the edges of his injury, but his reaction was limited to a sharp snort. He needed to relax as much as he was able and keep his muscles loose. After a few seconds, she prompted, “Are you ready?”

In response Vanitas gripped her hand in both of his, meeting her glance straight on. He didn’t trust those skinny arms of hers. He wanted this done in one shot.

With a small nod, Lunafreya shifted her weight slightly. “All right,” she murmured. “On three. One--”

Her fingers tightened. His did the same.

“Two--”

He clenched his jaw again, his tongue flat against the roof of his mouth.

_“Three--”_ Together they moved, Lunafreya pulling and Vanitas pushing. The shard slipped out of his side with little resistance, but the ease of removal did nothing for the pain. The ragged hole in his skin flared and burned, much worse than when he had been stabbed in the first place. He cried out, loud and furious, as fresh blood instantly began creeping over his side.

He tried to call a healing spell, but the agony had left him lightheaded and dangerously close to unconsciousness. While the dizzy haze in his mind continued to make coherent thought infuriatingly difficult, Lunafreya was already a step ahead of him. She pressed a towel against his side, putting most of her upper body into applying pressure. After what felt like forever she took his face in gentle hands and leaned down, her cool forehead touching his hot one as she whispered words in a soothing voice, an imploring prayer that meant nothing to him--

Just like when they had first met.

For some outlandish reason, Vanitas found that thought amusing. It was either the pain or the blood loss causing it, surely, and he had to hold back a delirious laugh.

Lunafreya’s healing light was as warm and invasive as ever, but agonizingly slow to bring any relief this time. His mind eventually cleared up enough for him to realize that the light wasn’t quite as bright as before -- still obnoxiously pure, but dimmed, somehow. As though spent.

And then he noticed the tremble in her hands -- right before she collapsed. Vanitas instinctively moved, catching her by the shoulders to redirect her fall away from him. The pain in his side intensified as his torso twisted with the effort, making him drop her just as quickly as he’d caught her. He doubled over with a choke, but still managed to snarl,

“Don’t -- useyourpowers--” Things were bad enough without her martyring herself for his sake. Lunafreya didn’t reply, either heeding his advice or too tired to do otherwise.

For some stretch of time they lay there, both panting, both shaking, with Vanitas curled in on himself as he nursed his middle with a thin stream of healing magic. Slowly, the last shreds of his skin knitted together; slowly, the sliced tissue and muscle beneath realigned and stopped bleeding; slowly, most of the internal bruising faded; and slowest of all, the pain finally began to abate.

Once he’d done as much as he was able, he rolled onto his back and let all that tension go. The cold tile felt good against his sweating skin. It would take a couple nights of rest and a few days of caution, but the rest would heal up soon enough. Now he had to hope that Ventus didn’t show up too far ahead of schedule, but he would make do either way.

Lunafreya remained where she was, her arms crossed as though trying to ward off the cold despite the warm temperature of the room. Goosebumps ran over her skin. Her eyes were closed and she breathed through her mouth, slow and heavy. Her face was pale.

Forcing himself up -- still sore and raw, but nowhere near as bad as before -- Vanitas propped himself against the bathroom wall and looked her over from head to foot, noting that she appeared as fine as ever on the outside, other than the loss of color in her cheeks. He slowly reached forward to touch her shoulder, where what little remained of his magic dribbled into another spell. It wouldn’t do much, but it was something.

“It’s not really my business,” he acknowledged, secretly annoyed by how thin his tired voice sounded, “but if you’re going to keep having problems like this, I need to know.”

Her eyes opened -- and he couldn’t tell if her long, hesitant stare was because she was trying to decide how much to tell him, or because she had noticed that this was the first and only time he had used a tone that was neither condescending nor abrasive.

“...It’s all right.” She sounded just as exhausted as he did. Maybe more. “The awakenings… Performing them requires much of my power.”

And she had done several already with little time for rest in between. That made sense. “So you’re going to keep getting weaker with each one.”

“I’m afraid so.”

His spell ended and Vanitas withdrew his hand. She was only halfway through her journey, he thought. So if she continued to decline at this rate… “Did you know this would happen? Before you set out?”

“I suspected.”

He studied her with a critical expression. “Why?” He didn’t often indulge his curiosity, not over something insignificant, but he wanted to know this. Why would somebody with so much power and influence risk all she had like Lunafreya was doing? She was out to save her world, but what was the point if she might not live to see it? This wasn’t even on the same level as Ventus dying for his friends; Lunafreya was putting herself beneath the world at large, many people she didn’t and probably would never know, on the optimistic assumption that something else wouldn’t come and endanger it after she was done. Surely she wouldn’t be faulted for having a stronger sense of self-preservation than that -- in Vanitas’ eyes, at least.

Slowly, Lunafreya sat up to lean back against the doorway. She still looked tired, but the heavy fatigue seemed to have retracted a bit; that, or the way she held her head high and controlled her expression merely masked it. “Because that is my duty,” she told him.

Duty. Not even “orders,” but duty. Obligation. “And what do you get out of that?” he asked. The question was partly hypothetical, a skeptical thought spoken out loud.

“If I succeed, then it is the peace of knowing that all I hold dear will be safe.”

“And if you fail?”

She didn’t appear surprised by the question, but she didn’t answer right away, either. “...I cannot fail,” she said simply.

Vanitas gave a soft snort. As much as he disliked blind optimism, her attitude was more tenacious than naive. He could respect it. “Fair enough.” The towel she’d placed over his wound was thoroughly damp, stained scarlet and sticky when he pulled it away. Underneath, the injury was closed, but the mark of what would probably be a wide scar -- and his ugliest to date -- remained.

With his shirt in tatters and soaked with blood and sweat, it seemed pointless to keep it. Pulling off what was left of it was a good exercise, at least, to test how sore he was (a lot) and how well he could move (decently, if he ignored the pain). He would have to pace his healing spells to make the most of them, but he estimated it wouldn’t take long to get back to one hundred percent.

He noticed Lunafreya’s eyes trail briefly over his middle in what was probably supposed to be a furtive glance. He knew what she was looking at. His chest and upper arms bore scars like trails on a map. Some were newer, still tinged pink as they were left to heal naturally beyond what his magic could do; others were faded and grey. Some were long, some were short. Some thick, some thin. Some, like the hole Lea had punched in his chest, he remembered vividly; most blurred together in his memory, shadows of naive mistakes from his early years of training.

When Lunafreya realized he’d caught her stare, she quickly dropped her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Vanitas didn’t see any reason to be offended. “Anybody who fights has them,” he pointed out indifferently. “It’s not that strange.”

“Yes, but…” Lunafreya’s tired frown deepened as she looked at him. “Forgive me if I sound patronizing, but… you’re so…”

“Young?” he grunted. It wasn’t the first time she’d made a remark about his age, so it was probably a safe guess. She gave a hesitant nod.

“May I ask -- how old are you, Vanitas?”

He could have done the math again and given a technical answer, or just been blunt and given a literal one. Instead, he decided on what was the most honest. “I don’t know.” Despite the apathy in his tone that -- should have -- said he didn’t care, Lunafreya’s expression softened, a precursor to sympathy or something worse. “Doesn’t matter,” he said before she could comment. “It’s not like the number of years you’ve been alive defines your worth.” Plenty of people lived long lives on dumb luck alone.

“What would you say does?”

“It’s all about what you do with the time you have.” It wasn’t meant to sound noble, but as soon as it was out of his mouth he realized it could be taken that way. Even so, it all boiled down to intentions in the end, and in that regard Vanitas had never known nobility. “How strong you become. And what you manage to do because of it.”

He guessed her next question before she asked it. “And your strength -- what is it that you choose to do with it? Protect the balance?”

Vanitas’ laugh was more of a short sigh. “No.” This far into their journey, did it really matter how much she knew? “That’s something Aqua and her friends do. I just…” His bitter humor faded. His eyes followed the blood slowly making its way along the lines in the tile floor. “...am.”

He suspected she would ask the obvious thing next -- why was he helping her, then, what did he hope to achieve -- but it never came. “...There was anger in her eyes,” Lunafreya pondered, “but also sadness when she looked at you.”

“Because I tried to kill somebody important to her.”

She stared at him. He didn’t bother looking over. “I see…” she stated after a few beats. “Is that why you requested that I grant her an audience?”

“Not in the way you’re probably thinking,” he remarked. “I meant it when I said she would be useful. Your manor is fine.”

“That is reassuring. Thank you.”

He hadn’t really meant for it to be. It was just an observation.

He was talking too much. With some help from the edge of the bathtub, Vanitas made it to his feet. “Will you be strong enough to leave in the morning?”

“Yes. As long as you’ve recovered.”

Then rest was their priority. There was really no rush, he reasoned, since he would be leaving her -- dead or alive -- in a few days anyway, but he didn’t see any cause for slacking, either. He didn’t like doing nothing, even if nothing would probably be much more comfortable than forcing himself to walk on his recovering injury.

He leaned against the doorway and -- purely out of habit -- offered her a hand. As weak and exhausted as she appeared, Lunafreya still endeavored to make it easier for him by supporting just as much of her own weight as he pulled her up. It strained his sore side, but it wasn’t as intense as he had predicted.

After she left, he stayed and washed up. The smell of blood was still strong in his clothes when he put them back on, but getting the grime off his skin was better than nothing. Out in the main room, he found Lunafreya sitting on the farthest bed with her back against the headboard. She looked as though she was barely awake.

He sat down on the edge of the vacant bed, facing her and earning a tired glance. “Our next destination is my last one,” he told her. “After that, we part ways.”

That roused her back to full awareness, but her reaction was surprisingly minimal. If his comment had caught her off guard, it showed only in the few seconds she took to respond. “I understand. You have already done far more than I could have asked for, and I am grateful for that.”

He eyed her thoughtfully. “...You knew,” he realized.

“I suspected,” she corrected, in the same cool tone as when she had spoken those words previously. “I’ve thought it obvious for a while that you have ulterior motives in assisting me… Rather, that we share a common interest of some sort. Our journeys are the same, even if our destinations are not.”

“And you still took that chance?”

“I had little choice. As I suspect you did, as well.”

Vanitas wasn’t sure what to think of her. It seemed stupid to trust one’s life to somebody with a hidden agenda, and yet… her assessment of his situation wasn’t incorrect. She needed his help, and had figured out somewhere along the way that he needed hers, as well. It was a risky gamble on her part, but he supposed that was what her entire journey was.

“You’re still not going to ask me why I’m here?” he wondered.

“I don’t believe it matters. If you have good intentions, then whether I know the reason isn’t important. If you have ill intentions, you’ll simply lie about them.”

She had a point there. It almost -- almost -- made him regret that he might have to kill her in a week’s time. It seemed like such a waste of an intelligent mind.

He was, however, genuinely surprised that Lunafreya didn’t seem angry. Her tone was matter-of-fact, but no less respectful and warm than usual. She had known that he wasn’t being entirely transparent with her, and yet she still treated him as kindly as she had on that first day. That didn’t strike him as stupid, really, as much as just… odd.

“If I have time, I’ll get you to Altissia,” he told her, disregarding his train of thought, “and I’ll help you with the Astral there. That’s it.” There was unspoken advice in those words: if she wanted an escort after that, she needed to arrange for one. He didn’t care so much about her well being on a personal level, but _just in case_ \-- if something went wrong with Ventus, or Vanitas had made an oversight somewhere -- he wanted her alive, as a backup.

“Very well. Thank you.”

* * *

Once Aqua finished speaking, the throne room fell utterly silent. Of all six wielders present, none attempted to break the ice yet. Nobody spoke -- and nobody looked at Ven.

He barely noticed and he hardly cared. After watching Aqua intently through her story, he now stared down at the marble floor in deep thought. He had little focus for anything else just yet.

Finally, Eraqus raised his voice to address Aqua. “And you’re certain there was no indication of where the Oracle was headed?”

“I’m afraid not. She only mentioned that she planned to leave soon. I tried asking the commander after the battle was over, but he wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“That is to be expected,” said Eraqus grimly. “Her people are doubtlessly under orders to keep the details of her journey quiet. You were a helpful stranger, but a stranger nonetheless.”

“But they trust Vanitas.” Terra’s remark was a thought rather than an objection; skepticism was thinly laced beneath his confusion.

“I told the commander that he’s dangerous,” said Aqua, “and he said that he knew that already.”

“Then why…?”

She shook her head. “He said that Vanitas has the blessing of the Messenger of the Gods. He didn’t explain, but that seemed to be enough for him.”

Eraqus folded his arms over his chest as the room mulled that over. “Vanitas has been busy these last few months,” he mused. “I admit, I never would have expected this kind of bold tactic from him. Considering how desperately he fought to escape from here, I assumed he would go quiet to avoid detection entirely.”

“That’s not enough.”

All eyes immediately turned to Ven when he spoke, but he didn’t look up. He was still half-lost in thought. “It’s the Keyblade,” he said quietly, distractedly. “That’s what this is all about.”

“But even if you could give his Keyblade back to him, he should know better,” Aqua pointed out. “You’d sooner fight him than give into his demands. We all know that.”

“So does he,” Ven murmured. He closed his eyes briefly -- still nothing from Vanitas’ end, not a hint of thought or emotion, only silence as it had been for over two months now -- and then raised his head to glance between his two best friends and his Master. “I don’t think he’s after his own anymore. He wants mine.”

Lea cocked an eyebrow. “You mean the one he already has?”

“You said it was powerless. It won’t accept him.” Ven saw Eraqus shift slightly, his eyes narrowing. He had already discerned where Ven was going with this. “That’s because it’s mine. But he was able to take it in the first place because he’s… because of our connection. So…” He paused, not wanting to be too blunt about it in front of Terra and Aqua, but he had no choice. “So he might be thinking that if something happens to me… my Keyblade might choose him in my place.”

Terra’s face darkened. Aqua’s lips parted, but she said nothing. Lea remained impassive and Sora stiffened.

“I suspect this as well,” said Eraqus slowly. “And I cannot rule out the possibility that it may work.”

Terra stared at him. “Master?”

“The nature of the bond between Ventus and Vanitas is… unpredictable. There is no telling what rules the Keyblade obeys now.”

“But that doesn’t change anything,” said Ven resolutely. “Keyblade or not, there’s only one reason he’d want to meet me, and that’s exactly what I’ve been training for.”

“Ven--” Terra seemed to be weighing his words. “This isn’t just about the two of you now. What Vanitas is threatening to do…”

“It’s not your problem anymore,” Aqua filled in. “It’s everyone’s. You don’t have to think of him as your responsibility.”

“No.” Ven shook his head. “That’s just it. He _is_ my responsibility. I gotta own up to that.”

“Ven…”

“All the times I faced him… all the times I beat him, it wasn’t enough. Either I wasn’t strong enough, or I thought…” He exhaled quietly, his expression firm. “But that’s over. No more mistakes -- no more second guessing. He has to be stopped. I’ll do my best to bring him back here, like I said. But if I can’t…” His hands clenched at his sides. “If I can’t, I know what I have to do. It’s not about what I want anymore -- it’s about what needs to be done.”

“You know it’s gotta be a trap,” said Lea. “I don’t think he’d risk blowing his cover like this unless he had a plan in mind.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. But he doesn’t know what I’ve learned -- and he’s always underestimated me.”

“All the more reason for him to be on his guard,” Eraqus reasoned. “He sounds prideful, but he is clever in battle. You cannot assume he’ll make the same mistakes as before.”

“We don’t have a choice.” Ven was starting to get impatient, but his tone remained collected and respectful. “If I don’t go…”

Sora chimed in, “I know he said to come alone, but -- what if somebody comes along and just hangs back? And if things start looking bad--”

“No, I’m sure he’s thought of that.” Ven was positive. “He can… he can sort of -- read my thoughts, but not really. It’s more like my feelings. If somebody comes with me, he’ll probably know about it.” There was no telling what he might do then.

He looked at each fellow wielder in turn -- lingering the longest on Terra and Aqua, but then settling on Eraqus. “I can do this. I have to. We can’t put an entire world in danger.” When his Master didn’t respond, Ven pressed, “This is exactly what I’ve been training for. I’m ready. With or without Vanitas, I’ll come back. I promise -- all of you.”

The room was deathly quiet again. Sora was the only one to meet Ven’s gaze this time, looking torn.

“...You are correct,” Eraqus began, sounding reluctant, “in that we cannot risk the wellbeing of a world.” Terra and Aqua instantly turned towards him, but they kept respectfully silent. “And while I am loathe to put you in danger… I cannot -- I will not order you to contradict your duty as a Keyblade wielder.” He held Ven’s stare, his own solemn but solid. “For that is what you are, Ventus, regardless of the weapon you do or do not carry. You are just as much an heir of this land as Terra and Aqua and myself, and so you are called to use your best judgment to do what is right for the worlds.” The slight sag of his shoulders was the only hint of his silent sigh. “And I believe you are doing just that.”

Ven perked up at the same time that Aqua winced and Terra’s face turned distant. “Then…?”

“I will not stop you,” said Eraqus. “And I forbid anyone else from doing so. But on one condition.”

“Yes, Master?”

“Vanitas gave you a week. I urge you -- no… I ask you to make use of that time to prepare yourself to the best of your ability.”

As glad and relieved as Ven was, he didn’t smile. The atmosphere and the looks on everybody’s faces said it wasn’t appropriate, so instead he gave a firm nod. “Yes, Master. I’ll keep training.”

Eraqus glanced around the room. “Terra, I want you to spar with Ventus as often as is feasible. Aqua, continue to assist him in honing his technique. Don’t overdo it, but do what you can.”

“Yes, Master.”

“What about us?” Sora leaned towards Lea, indicating that he spoke for both of them. “We’ll help, too!”

Now Ven did smile, nodding in their favor as he turned to Eraqus again. “Is it alright if they stick around? Sora’s been a big help -- and I could use all the experience I can get.”

“Very well. This world will remain open to you both. And Ventus -- before you depart for that world, I will test what you’ve learned directly.”

His Master had taught him plenty of things one-on-one, but actually sparring with him was something else. Ven couldn’t recall ever crossing blades with Eraqus in anything other than demonstration, and never with any real fighting intent from either side.

All the same, he nodded. “Yes, Master.” He wouldn’t -- he _couldn’t_ disappoint him. Too much was on the line.

The time for promises was over. He needed to prove himself, now or never.

* * *

“You don’t find this weird?”

Terra stopped, turning back to Lea with a curious glance. Despite Eraqus’ dismissal, the other wielder hadn’t moved from his spot, arms still crossed and eyes still fixed on the floor. His question had been a quiet one, unheard by the others who were already leaving the hall.

“What?” Terra asked.

“Aqua’s story. This Oracle person said the Heartless never broke into the castle before yesterday, right? And the kingdom’s forces didn’t have any trouble holding them back before, either.”

It was strange to see Lea this serious. Terra followed that train of thought in silence for a few moments, and then he also lowered his voice. “...You don’t think it was a coincidence?”

“It’s a pretty big one if it was.” Finally raising his head, Lea fixed Terra with a thin look. “The Heartless just so happen to infiltrate their defenses at the same time that she just so happens to find Vanitas, who just so happens to slip away into thin air right when it’s most convenient for him. You tell me, Terra: does that sound like a coincidence?”

Terra frowned. “No. Not at all.”

Lea shrugged with an annoyed sounding sigh. “I’m not saying it’s impossible, but the odds of things falling into place that neatly? Not very high.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Well, even Vanitas can’t control the Heartless -- right?” he asked doubtfully.

“Right.”

“Just checking. And that world’s pretty off-kilter because of all the darkness floating around, right?”

“You could say that, yeah. That was probably why Aqua didn’t notice Vanitas sooner.”

“Exactly. So in theory, anybody with a strong darkness could have passed right under her nose without her realizing, yeah?”

“...You think somebody else orchestrated the Heartless attack.”

“Maybe. Vanitas doesn’t seem like much of a team player, though.”

“He’s desperate,” Terra reminded him. “I think even he would swallow his pride at this point. His serving somebody with a heart of light proves that.”

“Fair enough.”

“But who would have an interest in doing that?” Terra wondered. “Xehanort and his Heartless are gone. None of the other Seekers were able to control Heartless.”

“None of the original Organization members, either,” said Lea thoughtfully.

“Maleficent’s possible... but I doubt it.” She had kept herself separate from the Organization and Xehanort this whole time. While it was possible Vanitas would interest her as a Keyblade wielder, this whole mess with the Oracle seemed pretty roundabout. If Maleficent were helping him, he surely could have found a better way of cornering Ven sooner.

“If it was her, she’d have probably let us know by now,” Lea suggested. “The way I hear it, she’s a real diva when it comes to flaunting her evil plans around.”

“Pretty much.” Terra held in a sigh. Between Aqua’s account and what Lea was suggesting, it felt like they were missing too many pieces to this puzzle. “So what are you thinking?”

“That we need to tell Ven to keep his eyes open,” said Lea plainly. “He already has tunnel vision when it comes to this guy, for whatever reason. That’s only gonna get worse when they meet.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Terra thought in silence for nearly a full minute. “...I don’t trust Vanitas,” he said finally, “but I do trust Ven. I don’t think he’s going into this with any assumptions. Actually, out of all of us, I’d say he’s probably the best prepared to face Vanitas. Still… I’ll talk to him.”

Lea nodded. “Guess that’s the best we can do for now.”

“For now,” Terra agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two updates in one month what madness is this


	17. Words of Parting

The next time Ven hit the ground, he stayed there. Try as he might, the farthest he could make it was onto his hands and knees, his head hanging low and his panting harsh and hot. His cuts and bruises stung. His lungs burned. Fatigue weighed so heavily in his bones that some of his joints were numb. It took an immense effort to stay upright.

He managed to raise his head a couple inches when he heard footsteps stop in front of him. “We will stop here, Ventus.”

“No--” Holding back a grunt, Ven gave a sharp push at the stone pavement to force himself back into a precarious sitting position. He narrowly avoided falling on his back. “I can keep going--”

“That’s enough.” Eraqus’ tone gained an authoritative edge, brooking no further argument, and Ven fell silent. “Your magic reserves are nearly empty. Push them any further and you risk your life.”

Ven kept his eyes down, his hands balling into loose fists against his thighs. His master spoke rightly: as far as he had been pushed in past battles, none had ever exhausted him quite like this. While he’d always balanced physical strength with magic pretty evenly, he had a tendency to lean on the former a little more so. It was rare for him to hit the limits of his magical stamina, and this was the first time he had ever gone so far past them. It left something inside him feeling raw and empty. The closest sensation he could liken it to was when he played outside during the winter, that tight, throbbing burn that the cold air left in his lungs when he tried to take in too much of it at once. This feeling was similar, except it ran throughout his whole body, not just his chest.

It was uncomfortable. It _hurt_ , and it had made concentrating that much harder on top of his regular exhaustion.

“Do you understand? Your magical abilities are strong, but they are by no means to be abused. Assuming you do not do yourself irreparable damage, such a vulnerability leaves you wide open to your enemy.”

Ven bobbed his head. “Yes, Master.” Aqua had stressed that same point as she trained him, but he saw now that he had underestimated the reason for that concern.

Eraqus’ Keyblade vanished, the final declaration that his test was over. “...Do not be disheartened, Ventus.” His tone was notably gentler. Unlike Ven, he wasn’t even slightly out of breath. “I did not say you had to defeat me. Nor did I expect you to. I only wished to see how much you have grown.” Suddenly he leaned forward, offering a hand. Ven took it and was pulled to his feet, his sense of vertigo prompting him to maintain that grip a few seconds longer than he meant to. “You performed well.”

Once, that compliment would have been more than enough for Ven to feel satisfied with himself. Now he could only wonder: had he performed well _enough?_ “Do you think I’m ready, then?” he blurted. He couldn’t help feeling impatient; this was the last day, his final chance at proving himself. Come tomorrow, he needed to head for that other world -- or else…

Eraqus studied him for a few heartbeats, his expression unreadable. “You are not lacking in strength of body or mind. But I knew that much before I challenged you.”

Ven blinked. “Then -- why did you…?”

“Vanitas will be fighting you with all he has. His strength does not come from the Keyblade alone. Like yourself, he will surely have found ways of improving himself around his new weakness. He is stubborn and determined -- also like you. And between the two of you, I believe that will make all the difference over brute strength.”

 _Stubborn and determined..._ “You think… the one who’ll win is the one who has the stronger will?” Ven asked.

“Not will, but heart.” Eraqus gripped his shoulder, fixing him with an equally steady look. “You fight for more than just yourself, Ventus, and that is key. But it can also be a weakness if you are not careful. The greatest strength comes from striking a balance between the two: fighting for others, but not losing sight of oneself.”

That message probably went deeper than Ven realized, but he figured he understood at least some of it already. That “weakness” had already betrayed him once. “You’re saying… I need to think with both my heart and my head,” he surmised.

“Precisely.” Eraqus stepped back, regarding him seriously. At this range it seemed like less of a master looking down at a student and more… more like one ally regarding another. “Had this situation arisen in the past, I would have denied your request without question,” he admitted grimly. “But you have grown, and not just in ability. I believe you’re as determined as you can be to see this matter through -- and I trust you to use your best judgment. I trust you to return.”

That was a bigger compliment than Ven would have expected. It was a relief, too, having his master’s trust, not to mention an honor. He nodded. “Thank you, Master. I swear, I won’t fail you.”

“Good. Now rest. I don’t want to see you training again today.”

* * *

That evening, dinner was pleasantly normal. Ven had been worried that it would be quiet and awkward, with Terra and Aqua exchanging worried looks and skirting the issue of what tomorrow would bring, but that wasn’t the case. Their mealtime chatter was casual and the mood cheerful. Whenever Ven chimed in, it was about his friends or the state of the Land of Departure or some news he had caught wind of. Not his training, not Vanitas, not tomorrow. He kept quiet on those matters for their sake, but he had to admit to himself that it was nice to be free of those thoughts for a time.

Once everyone was finished and everything had been cleaned up, Aqua inquired, “Terra and I are going to the summit for a bit. You coming?”

Ven beamed. He’d been hoping to spend some time with them tonight. There was really nothing left for him to do at this point other than get a good night’s rest, but it was still early. Even recovering from his training with Eraqus hours ago, he knew he was too antsy to sleep yet. “Yeah! Let’s go!”

Out at their usual spot, the dark sky was clear and the air comfortably cool. Rather than their usual places on the cliffside, the three of them sat on the grass to lean -- or in Ven’s case, lie -- back and watch the hundreds of stars overhead. The silence was a calm, easy one.

As much as Ven appreciated the casual atmosphere, he quickly found that he didn’t want to go on ignoring the elephant in the room. He didn’t want to continue keeping all his thoughts to himself, a very unlike-him habit that he’d developed in the last couple months. It seemed like he did a lot of quiet thinking these days, unlike the past when he would voice his thoughts as soon as they came to mind.

After some amount of time he sighed and leaned up on his elbows. Even as he opened his mouth to speak, he noticed that Aqua was no longer looking skyward, either. She sat on her knees with her hands in her lap, working at something. Curious, Ven sat all the way up to see that she’d gathered a handful of the small yellow flowers that grew on the summit. Their faces were made up of dozens of thin petals and resembled tiny suns. A few of them had been linked together in the start of what looked to be a chain; her nimble fingers worked slowly but precisely, weaving the stems together in small knots.

After watching her work for a few moments, he realized her rhythmic movements were familiar. Almost as if… “I’ve done that before,” he said slowly, puzzled. It was as much a question as a statement.

Aqua didn’t seem surprised. “Do you remember how?”

Ven frowned. _Maybe…_ When she offered the chain in his direction, he took it, studied it, and then tugged a flower from the grass to try and mimic her motions to join it with the others. To his surprise, he fell into the movement almost naturally, doing so by muscle memory without hardly trying. Once the newest link was set, identical to the knots Aqua had made, he glanced up at her.

“You taught me,” he realized, “didn’t you? A long time ago.” It felt right in saying so, but no actual memories of that came to mind.

Aqua nodded. “Mm. Not long after you first came here.” That immediately drew Ven’s attention. It was rare, even now, for her or Terra to speak of that. After years of telling him otherwise -- lying to him, basically, and claiming that he had always been raised alongside them -- he imagined it wasn’t easy for them to speak about it casually. The way she avoided looking at him now suggested as much. “You’d just started to talk again. We sat up here, just like this.” She smiled fondly as she observed the flowers around her knees. “You took to it so fast, I thought maybe you’d done it before… although you didn’t understand what it was for. When I told you it’s for wearing--” She chuckled quietly. “You put it on my head, instead of yours.”

He also gave a low laugh, but he mostly just found hers contagious. It was strange to think of how far he’d come, only to realize again and again that a good portion of his life still remained a mystery to himself. Whether it was Vanitas’ offhanded remarks, or small things like this… It didn’t bother Ven, not really, but it was always a little humbling to remember that. It was also a reminder that the present and future were what he needed to focus on.

He linked the last flower in the chain to the first, completing the ring. With a grin Ven reached up to set the flower circlet on Aqua’s head, and then fell back into place beside her with an approving look. “You can have it this time, too,” he told her. “It’s better if somebody pretty wears it, you know?”

Aqua looked as though she were going to comment, but then hesitated and instead just glanced away with another low laugh, unnecessarily adjusting her new crown.

“You really do just say whatever comes to mind, don’t you?” Terra asked, sounding amused. Ven glanced at him curiously.

“I guess so... Why?”

“Heh. If you don’t get it, then don’t worry about it.”

“If you say something like that, I just wanna know more!”

“You’re probably still too young to know.”

“You always say that!”

“Because I’m older than you.”

“Like _that’s_ fair!”

Aqua suddenly set her hand on Ven’s head. “What Terra _means_ to say,” she chimed in, her tone as patient as her touch was gentle, “is that you’re an open and honest person. That’s a good thing.”

He shot Terra an uncertain look, still convinced there was some hidden meaning that he was missing, but he quickly decided to let it go. “Well, I think I’ve always been like that. No need to change now, right?” he added cheerfully.

Aqua nodded. “I hope you don’t.”

Everything felt so casual. Just like old times. Just the way it should have _always_ been, some small part of him lamented. Without the scars and the hurt and the battles -- not just the big fights, but the smaller ones, too, that still went on inside each of them.

Ven hoped tomorrow would be the last one. The final pen stroke in a story that had already dragged on for too long now.

The grass around his knees was dotted with dozens more of those yellow flowers. He picked a few and began a fresh chain, absently linking them together in the same way as before. The motions were kind of therapeutic. He was the type who liked to keep his hands busy, and not always with a Keyblade.

“...Listen,” he began heavily, after a couple more minutes of easy silence. He felt Terra and Aqua both look at him as his hands fell still. “About tomorrow. I know you guys are worried. But… I don’t think... there’s anything I can say to change that.”

After a moment, Terra agreed solemnly, “There isn’t. But that’s not your fault, Ven. We’re always going to worry about you, no matter how big or small the threat. You do the same, right?”

 _Now_ he did, yes. Once upon a time, Ven had thought his best friends invincible. Like so many other things, time had changed that. He nodded slowly.

“It’s what best friends do,” Aqua added. “So don’t worry about what we think. When tomorrow comes, just focus on yourself.”

That much, Ven was certain he could do. The upside to all this was that despite the stakes, it would just be Vanitas and himself tomorrow. Nobody else to worry about. Just himself.

And the idiot who was likely ready to die fighting before accepting his help.

“Yeah… Right.” His flower chain was long enough now, so he figured he might as well finish it. As he began linking the first and last stems together, Aqua commented,

“You know, I heard that those flowers normally close up at night.”

He spared a curious glance. “Really?”

She nodded. “It’s like they go to sleep. I’ve seen them on other worlds… but as long as I’ve been here, those in this world always stay open, rain or shine.”

“Huh.” That was strange. Maybe there was something special about the flowers that grew here, then. Floral knowledge was hardly his forte, so Ven asked, “What are these called?”

Aqua smiled fondly at the bright little plants. “Dandelions.”

* * *

Lunafreya was on her feet when Vanitas entered the office. She was alone this time, he was mildly surprised to find, but anyone without clearance would have a tough time getting this far through the guards on each floor. The room was lit entirely by the sunlight coming through the tall windows, through which he caught glimpses of the floating city of Altissia down below.

It was a large city, crowded and loud and all around not his kind of place. He’d given it some idle exploration early that morning while Lunafreya spoke at length with the Secretary, but being both uninterested and unimpressed by a location that would mean nothing to him in the near future, he was now glad -- for once -- to be back in Lunafreya’s company.

It was obvious she had been waiting for him. Equally obvious was her half-hearted smile as she greeted him. “Vanitas.” He waited. She hesitated a couple beats too long. “The situation has changed,” she said slowly, as though looking for the right words. After another moment she shook her head lightly. “The Empire is aware of my presence here, as well as my intentions. There is no avoiding it now. The Secretary and I… We have agreed that it is in the best interest of all that I am turned over into their custody.”

He stared. For a moment he wondered whether he had heard her correctly. “What?” This was one of those very rare occasions where he couldn’t hide his surprise.

“It’s -- a complicated matter, I am sorry. But I will still summon the Hydraean.”

“And then what?”

“What comes will come.” Her tone didn’t change, but there suddenly seemed to be more weight in it. “But I am not asking you to change your intentions. I understand that you were to bring me no further than Altissia, and you have done so. I thank you.”

“Do you even have a plan for what happens next?” This didn’t seem like her. Something was off. “It’s hard to imagine you’d come this far just to start winging it, but it’s even harder to think that throwing yourself at the Empire is a good idea.” Vanitas’ skepticism was obvious, but he didn’t curb it. This whole thing annoyed him and she deserved to know it. It probably annoyed him more than it should have, but he’d never had much patience for stupidity.

“The Empire’s forces are already here,” said Lunafreya in a level voice. “I cannot put this city at risk. What’s more…” She sighed, very quietly. “For all your strength, Vanitas, you cannot face this force alone. Trust me when I say this. As the Oracle, I have my role to play -- and it is a path I must walk alone now. The Empire will make certain of it.”

Vanitas was silent as he mulled her words over, guessing at the implication between the lines. If she really was planning to surrender herself over, she had reason to believe they wouldn’t kill her. They needed her alive, then, for some reason. But _only_ her. The Empire wouldn’t stand for a tagalong bodyguard complicating the picture in whatever plan they were concocting. Vanitas would be a target the second they knew about him.

His expression returned to its usual neutral disregard. In the end, he reminded himself, it didn’t matter. He was mildly irritated at being told what he could and couldn’t do, and so abruptly after weeks of frequent consultation before acting, but the bruise on his ego was smoothed over quickly enough. In fact, the timing worked out pretty well: now he would have time to gather his bearings and prepare properly for Ventus’ arrival.

So why did he feel a knot of hesitation in the back of his mind?

Lunafreya stepped forward, extending a hand to gently touch his shoulder. For better or worse, he was too used to her presence by now to reflexively avoid the touch. “It is a late sentiment, perhaps… but I do not wish to put you in harm’s way.” She held his stare for a few heartbeats, and then her hand fell away. “That is why I ask that you leave here, and avoid any further involvement in this matter.”

She wasn’t asking, at least not entirely; that was a dismissal if Vanitas had ever heard one. So that was it. He was done -- a little sooner than expected -- and once again on his own. He wondered how long it would take the Keyblade to go silent again.

“Then you’re on your own from here,” he told her. He wasn’t going to insist -- or worse, ask -- that he stay. If things went according to plan, he wouldn’t need her again and she could go martyr herself as quickly as she wanted. If his intentions went awry, well… For now, at least, he hoped she managed to keep her head above the proverbial water.

Lunafreya’s smile was an easy, casual one this time. She seemed glad that he hadn’t pressed the issue. She reached for him again, and this time he watched as she took his hand, turned it over, and placed something in his palm. In response to the puzzled rise of his eyebrow, she only curled her fingers around his to close his fist.

“Should you return…” She paused. “This world will see the rise of a great king in the coming future. Should you find yourself here again, and you are ever in need of help… show him this. He will assist you.”

Vanitas was quiet for a few slow heartbeats, watching their hands. “...Why?” he wondered. He met her gaze with open curiosity -- and much less skepticism than he would have shown even a few weeks ago. “You don’t owe me anything.” He wasn’t being generous; the statement was matter-of-fact. He was genuinely puzzled by her gesture.

“It is the least I can do for someone who has sacrificed so much time and effort for the sake of my cause. Regardless of your personal interests in aiding me, I am in your debt, my friend.”

Friend.

For another silent moment Vanitas could only stare at her as though he didn’t recognize the word. For her to use it -- towards _him_ \-- was absurd.

He finally glanced to the side, sneering quietly. “Your standards for friends are pretty low.”

Slowly, Lunafreya released his hand to join hers together in front of her hips in her usual prim posture. She tilted her head. “On the contrary. I trust you. I value your opinion. I enjoy speaking with you, on the occasion that you humor me.” When he stared at her again, she gave the softest little laugh he’d ever heard. “I apologize. Was that presumptuous of me?”

Vanitas studied the item in his hand. After a moment he closed his fist again and slipped it into his jacket pocket. “Call me what you want,” he remarked disinterestedly. “But the definition of ‘friend’ as I know it has always been messier than that.” It involved emotions and self-righteousness and wasting time. It involved _love_ , and as he had told Ventus outright, that wasn’t something he did.

“It doesn’t have to be. Truthfully, friendship is a rather simple thing. By the time it becomes ‘messy,’ you don’t notice -- rather, you don’t mind. The other person is worth the trouble.” Lunafreya’s smile grew a little. “Vanitas -- when we started this journey less than two months ago, would you honestly have stood here this long and listened to me prattle on about sentiment?”

He kept his face impassive, but her question caught him off guard. He recovered quickly and scowled, “Tolerating you isn’t kindness.” And it certainly didn’t mean that they were _friends._

“Perhaps not,” she agreed. Her gentle smile remained. “But after these weeks I can say with confidence that I am at least a little familiar with you. You are practical, punctual, and your time and effort are very important to you. I agree that most would not equate tolerance with kindness… And yet, I believe that coming from you, tolerating me as you have may be a sort of kindness.”

Was she suggesting that he had made an exception for her in some ways? He had, he would agree, but only out of necessity. After spending so much time around her, wasn’t it only inevitable that he become less hostile towards her?

Vanitas chose not to comment. He had his share of pride, but not so much that he cared what delusions this woman had about him.

 _Somebody like her only wants to see the good in people, even if there isn’t any._ She could keep her blind optimism. With him leaving, it was surely only a matter of time until it got her hurt -- or worse -- but that was no longer his concern.

As if reading his mind, Lunafreya appeared to turn solemn. “I was not blind to your feelings, Vanitas,” she said quietly. “There is something inside you that has always hated me -- a nature, deep inside, that despises who I am and what I do. Something that would harm me, if given the chance. And yet… you never have.” She lifted her head. “I will not naively attribute your self-restraint to feelings of friendship; in truth I know you do not see me that way. But for you to hold back your own darkness thus… even if it was not for my sake, it proves you have a strong mind, and a strong heart.”

A strong mind and heart. Like that mattered. “Somebody once told me something similar,” he said, his tone coldly dismissive. “What people like you don’t understand is that most hearts are made of both light and darkness; strength only comes from choosing one or the other.” And then there was the rare breed like Terra, who drew from both, but that advantage wasn’t gained without sacrifice. For a simpler case like Vanitas, he knew where he stood.

“Indeed,” Lunafreya acquiesced. “But just as every light casts a shadow, I believe that anyone who walks in darkness without succumbing to it must have a light that guides him. I do not know where yours comes from, but I can see it is strong.”

 _Not this again._ Vanitas wondered if she would still say all this if she knew there was a very real possibility that he would be hunting her down tomorrow. Assuming the Empire didn’t save him the trouble.

If this was where the conversation was going, there was nothing else to be said. As he turned away from her to take his leave, he advised, “Try not to die.” It was as honest as it was sarcastic. He didn’t particularly care how she took it. He was halfway to the door when Lunafreya replied.

“I hope you find what it is you’re looking for.”

 _That_ made him pause. He turned back half a step, regarding her with his most carefully neutral expression. He had to wonder -- not for the first time -- at how deeply she had read into him during their time together. Her comments on his character were overly optimistic at worst, and even then they weren’t exactly wrong. He hadn’t thought he’d given her much to go on, considering how little he spoke, but apparently it had been enough for her to become “at least a little familiar” with him, as she put it. It prompted him to wonder whether she was just that perceptive or he wasn’t as enigmatic as he liked to think.

Then again, perhaps he had always been predictable. Xehanort had known how to earn his trust and loyalty, after all, although that almost went wrong a few times. Like Lunafreya, he had been a bit too dependent on Vanitas at times without recognizing the danger of that little thing called free will.

The same free will he had now.

As Vanitas continued to silently watch her, a single thought occurred to him. It was a thought that had been lurking in the back of his mind for a while now, unconsciously smothered and disregarded each time before it could even make it far enough for him to shoot it down. Now, he let it run its course.

He could stay.

Vanitas could stay with Lunafreya to the end of her journey -- and beyond, if she would let him. She had guards at her manor, didn’t she? Somebody of her status would always need protecting. He could stay by her side, ensuring a functioning Keyblade and a purpose for himself. Even if Aqua and the others knew already, that was fine. _Let_ them try and take him from her. It was something else he could fight for.

Even if Lunafreya was pure Light -- even if she was an utter contrast to Xehanort -- that didn’t really matter. Vanitas could tolerate her. She respected him. Comparatively petty though his role would be, it was a role nonetheless, one he would be fine with playing. And just like he assured himself at the start of this journey, he could walk away at any time if he found a reason.

He could return to the way things used to be: somebody to serve and fight for. That probably wasn’t quite the definition of “freedom,” but it was what he knew. It was still his own choice, coming from the freedom to do what he wanted. He would gladly take it again over wandering aimlessly like before.

Maybe she was right, maybe he was severely outmatched by the Empire’s forces here, but if he wanted to take his chances, that was his concern. If he _really_ wanted, he could make sure she made it through this safely. If it meant facing steep odds, even taking this fight to the source and killing the leader of this Empire, he was sure he could do it. It couldn’t be much more difficult than some of the things he’d done in the past.

He kept all of this off his face as he held Lunafreya’s gaze, but at this point he wouldn’t have put it past her to guess his thoughts. Ventus’ Keyblade chose to react right then, suddenly growing warm where it hung against his hip -- not just physically, but in the feeling it gave off as well.

 _Is that your way of saying I should?_ Vanitas wondered, his silent tone brimming with sarcasm. For a moment he was entirely willing to believe that the Keyblade was reading his thoughts and giving its two cents on the matter, but an instant later he felt something else.

He finally pulled his attention away from Lunafreya, his eyes instinctively moving to the north-facing window instead. It was a different warmth, a different light. Faint, but familiar. And despite the distance that still kept them apart, he could immediately tell that this light was strong again, as it was meant to be.

Ventus. He was here.

* * *

“You think he’s still here?”

Ven closed his eyes and focused. There was so much darkness here, but it was foreign and different. It wasn’t _his_ darkness, wasn’t Vanitas. Like so many other times in the past couple months, he searched for a sign of that familiar flare of cold hostility -- and like those other times, he found nothing. Wherever Vanitas was, he was still shutting him out. Consciously, Ven could detect nothing. And yet… there was another part, deep inside him, a more base kind of instinct. It was the same sense that, in the past, had been all but useless in alerting him to Vanitas’ presence until the very last second. It wasn’t that much more useful now -- it couldn’t give him a direction, or a distance, but it did tell him one thing for certain.

“...Yeah. He’s here.” Ven glanced around at the rolling plains and stretch of asphalt road. No other sign was to be seen. “Somewhere.”

Terra stepped up beside him. “You know the plan, right?”

Ven nodded. “Mm. I’ve got until nightfall before you guys come check on me.” According to the information the others had gathered, that wasn’t a very long time. The days were short here, with sunset falling only a few hours after noontime. As long as he didn’t waste much time finding Vanitas, that would be more than enough.

Terra set a firm hand on his shoulder, earning a glance. “If you run out of time, don’t risk it. There’s a force at work here you can’t face alone, least of all when you already have your hands full with one enemy.” Ven trusted his judgment -- as well as Aqua’s and Lea’s, as they too had attested to the strength of the monsters here -- but he hardly needed it. Something in this world felt _wrong_ , and he had noticed it the second they arrived. He felt uncomfortable in a way he couldn’t describe; not fearful, but uneasy, the kind of alert wariness he felt against a formidable opponent. It was a tingling on the back of his neck, an itch he couldn’t place, a bland taste in the back of his mouth. It was the uncertainty of standing in a dark forest and wondering whether he was truly alone. 

And yet it was broad daylight and he stood on an open field with one of his best friends at his side. Somehow, knowing that made his feeling of dread run even colder. Ven was a hard person to shake, especially these days, but something here -- something unseen -- managed it without hardly trying.

The smile he shot at Terra didn’t give any of that away. “Got it. I’ll be careful.” Terra nodded, but it was a couple more seconds before he withdrew his hand and looked away. He was holding something back. Unwilling to let that slide, Ven widened his smile into a grin as he turned to face him. “Hey, come on. I’ll be fine. If Vanitas has been here this long, he should know not to mess around after dark, too. He doesn’t like to waste time, either, so we’ll make this quick.”

That prompted Terra into returning the smile. He still looked thoughtful, but the expression was heartfelt. For Aqua’s sake, Ven couldn’t help feeling a little glad that it was Terra here rather than her. They both worried about him, but Aqua always went the extra mile. However hard it would be for Terra to turn and leave him here alone, Ven suspected it would be twice as difficult for Aqua. He didn’t fault her for that, either. She had always been that way, quick to think in the best interest of his safety before anything else. He had found it annoying in the past, but now he understood her overprotective feelings.

“Right,” Terra agreed. “I know you’ll be fine.”

“Keep Aqua company for now, yeah? You know she’ll be worried.”

That, at least, got a chuckle. “Okay. You got it.”

After Terra had disappeared back into the Lanes and the portal closed behind him, Ven let his cheerful expression drop. Turning his back on the way he’d come, he looked ahead to the horizon and the sun that wasn’t even halfway over it yet. “Okay,” he sighed quietly. “Where are you?”

He chose a direction and started walking, following the main road. Every once in awhile a car or two would pass by, but other than that and the occasional bird or grazing creature in the distance, Ven was alone.

That was probably why he was so quick to pick up on the new presence: he whirled around before it could make a sound, and was only slightly surprised to find himself staring down an Unversed. It was one of the smaller, more common types, and it was only a couple yards away with its scarlet eyes fixed on him. His fist clenched out of old reflex, but his Keyblade didn’t come and in that pause he noticed that the creature didn’t look hostile. On the contrary, it sat on its hind legs as it watched him and was unnaturally still.

Standing straight again, Ven forced himself to ease up a bit, although he chanced a quick glance around. Still alone. If the Unversed wasn’t attacking him, he could discern only one reason for its appearance. “Which way?” he asked.

It immediately rose, turned aside, and took off at a swift run -- or whatever it was Unversed did, its small body stretching to take long strides. Ven followed. As chance would have it he had more or less been moving in the right direction before, give or take a few degrees. Whereas he had been following the winding road, the Unversed led him straight, cutting through the field and over anything they came across. It didn’t slow down, but it didn’t need to. Ven kept up easily, moving at a pace that wouldn’t tire him too quickly.

When the minutes stretched on, he stopped to take a breather. The Unversed waited for him, and after a couple minutes they took off again. The journey took about an hour total, Ven guessed, plus a few breaks along the way. He didn’t want to chance even the slightest disadvantage here, so he made sure to stop every time his breathing became a little too heavy.

The sun was properly in the sky by the time they came across the building. Sitting well away from the main road, it was large and made of concrete, its grey walls solid and unmarked. Or they looked unmarked, at least, until Ven came closer, slipping through a gap in the chain link fence that surrounded the perimeter. There were signs of a past battle here, although how recent he couldn’t guess. It wasn’t just one building, but a big one surrounded by several smaller ones. Some of the walls were cracked or even destroyed, scarred by black marks that suggested fire or worse. Damaged vehicles lay strewn about, some more intact than others, as did pieces of equipment and armor.

It was some kind of base, he guessed. It looked military, and abandoned. As he came to stand in the middle of the mess, he realized with a start that he didn’t see the Unversed. He quickly spun in place, but the creature was gone. He inwardly kicked himself for being so easily distracted.

 _Great way to start off,_ he silently chastised. Even so, if this was where it had led him…

“Predictable as always.”

Every muscle of his went taut, but Ven kept his reaction minimal and only turned his head towards the voice.

Vanitas stood at ease, arms crossed as he leaned against the nearest building. By all appearances he seemed to have been standing there for some length of time, but Ven couldn’t imagine how he’d overlooked him. Their gazes met. Neither moved, or spoke, for what felt like a full minute at least. 

“You didn’t really give me much of a choice,” Ven pointed out at last.

“You always have a choice, Ventus. You just like to make the stupid ones.” Vanitas hadn’t changed one bit.

“Where’s the Oracle?”

“What, you don’t trust me?” When Ven didn’t answer, Vanitas shrugged. “She’s safe. More or less.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means she’s the last person you need to worry about right now,” Vanitas snapped. “Leave that to your friends.”

Ven stared. “Huh? My friends?”

Vanitas cocked an eyebrow. “...You’re telling me they’re not at least making an _attempt_ to look for her? Or are you really that stupid?”

Terra and the others hadn’t said anything about what they were doing. Ven had assumed they were just on standby, waiting to come check on him should evening arrive. Then again, he realized, with the time difference between worlds, how would they know when night fell? Unless--

Vanitas gave a low grunt that was somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “That answers that question. They didn’t tell you anything.”

 _Why would they look for her now?_ Ven started to ask, but then figured he didn’t need to. If Vanitas was right, they probably wanted to make sure he hadn’t done anything to the Oracle already -- or, in the worst-case scenario, prepare to protect her if Ven lost and Vanitas went after her.

“It doesn’t matter what they’re doing,” said Ven firmly. “This is about you ‘n me.”

“You really don’t think they’ll come running to your rescue?”

Ven hesitated, but then shook his head. “No. They trust me to come home after this. They know this is my fight. Besides… if you knew that much and still came here, you must know they won’t interfere, too.”

For a few silent beats Vanitas only watched him. Then he pushed off the wall to stand straight, arms falling to his sides. A Keyblade -- Ven’s Keyblade -- hung at his left hand, and he was dressed in new attire. It was strange seeing him in a casual jacket, but it wasn’t exactly unfitting, either. “Do you even know why you’re here?” Vanitas asked. There was weight in the question, as though he was genuinely interested in the answer. Ven didn’t budge as he drew closer, finally stopping only just out of arm’s reach.

He probably expected something like _To stop you_ or _To protect the Oracle_ \-- but Ven cut straight to the chase. “It’s my Keyblade, isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question. Even though Vanitas’ face remained impassive, and the tie between them was no longer intimate enough to share emotions, Ven knew he was surprised. More importantly, it confirmed his guess was right. “You think taking me out will make it accept you.”

Unexpectedly, Vanitas smiled -- not his usual cutting, twisted smile, but not a smirk, either. There was still something sarcastic in it, but there was also some dark amusement. Or so Ven thought. “Sounds like you grew up a little while I wasn’t looking.”

“I think I’ve got you to thank for it,” Ven admitted. He gave a cheeky smile of his own. “Part of it, anyway.”

“Think you’ll still be grateful after today?”

“...That depends.” Ven’s humor faded. He faced Vanitas fully now, holding that intense stare readily. “You know, you never answered my question back then. I asked what you would do if you were free and could do anything you want.” Vanitas had brushed him off at the time, even joked about it. “D’you have an answer yet?”

Vanitas’ eyes narrowed slightly. “Does it matter? It’s not like you’re gonna live to see it.”

“It’s just... You have your freedom, right? And even without a Keyblade, I know you’re not weak. But somehow that’s not enough for you. And after being together for those few days… after getting an idea of what goes on in your head... it just seems like you should be happy as you are. But you’re not. So… I wanna ask you, one more time.” Ven held out a hand. “We don’t have to fight, Vanitas. You can still come back with me -- I’ll still vouch for you. I can fix all this, if you’ll let me.”

_Because once we start fighting… that’s the end of it. You won’t back down._

Predictably, Vanitas didn’t immediately reply. Predictably, his face was carefully controlled as he stared at Ven’s hand. Predictably, he didn’t give off the slightest hint of what he was thinking.

Which was why Ven was completely caught off guard when Vanitas actually reached forward as well, stopping only once their fingertips were inches apart. Vanitas met his gaze again, and for an instant Ven dared to hope -- that he had said the right thing, that this could end peacefully and well without any more sacrifices.

He dared to hope, right up until that flash of light that preceded the Keyblade appearing suddenly in Vanitas’ outstretched hand.

Ven had accounted for a number of possibilities. That wasn’t one of them.

He jerked backwards, but too late: the Keyblade -- his _own_ Keyblade -- lashed out at him for the second time in his life, catching his right shoulder and slicing it open. He didn’t dare risk looking away as he stumbled backwards, but he could already tell it wasn’t a deep wound. It bled and it hurt, but he barely felt it through his shock and confusion.

Vanitas remained in place, his summoned weapon still outstretched. Sure enough, it no longer hung at his side.

“How did you--?” Ven’s mind raced. Lea had been sure -- he said the Keyblade had been dormant while he fought Vanitas. What was more, that was the whole reason Ven had been blackmailed into coming here. So _how_ and _why_ \--

“I take it back.” The icy disregard and contempt in Vanitas’ tone were all too familiar. “You haven’t changed at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU KNOW I LIKE THEM CLIFFHANGERS. c: As a heads-up I won't be posting anything until December at the earliest, since next month is NaNo and I'll be participating and I'm sure I'll have very little time and brainpower, if any, set aside for fanfic. On a positive note, I've been planning this climax for a _long time_ and have a good chunk of it planned out, so I (hopefully?? let's see how RL cooperates) shouldn't take too long to get it down and posted once November's over.


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